By Teresa Smith

After a dry summer, running water and rain are precious. Island ponds fill to abundance. Winter streams come to life, from trickle to torrent. I relish the feel of my feet sinking into mud. And like stones under water, rich colors of winter are deeper after rain.

Long nights are nurturing. The daily list is short. A knitting project is taking shape. And the deep darkness invites a long winter’s nap. Fire in the woodstove brings a life of its own. Four sleeping cats and a tuckered-out dog provide a feeling of; this is enough.

The days are getting longer a tiny bit each day. I look forward to the season when the first flowers are blooming, and none yet gone by. As I long for those blooms, I also feel sad to see the dead of winter finish up its sleep. I am sorry to see it go, but I am happy to wake up a little and look forward to spring.