Nature Induced

Not to fret, not to worry, nature will always surprise us and ensure we're never bored with her palette nor her offerings. Before October departed we had clear notice that winter was on the way, with a 15-centimeter dump of snow aided and abetted by a bluster of winds that managed to disrupt traffic and bring down power lines.

Just so we wouldn't feel too sedate about this season heralding days of white-outs and the suspense of freezing rain.

This morning brought another surprise; fog so heavy we could barely see the road in front of our house. And it didn't dissipate entirely until noon. When we ventured out into the ravine, although the sun had by then poked through on occasion, mist still trailed about, creating an elusive scene of mystery. All of earth's creatures are somewhat unsettled, but pleasantly.

Insects have come to life, little moths flitting aimlessly about, uncertain what next to expect, and bees have come out of their hives looking in vain for pollen for there is none to be had, the flowers all wilted and brown. Squirrels, so frantic only last week to assemble spruce cones and lay them away for the long hard months ahead are now skittering about without heed to the impending cold.

For suddenly it isn't cold, it's balmy, so warm we are able to go about clad only in long-sleeved shirts, the breeze caressing our faces, the sun now and again warming us as we emerge from bush to clearing. There's the rough, raw caw of a raven somewhere overhead, the determined clacking of a hairy woodpecker, low on a tree in full sight.

Nuthatches and chickadees skip around trees in their flighty manner, and a pair of doves lifts gracefully off, one after another, from the trail into the nearby forest. Later, back home in the garden, we are able to complete winterizing our gardens. We've worked at just that for a full month, gathering cut-backs to be composted, and in fact, today emptying one of our three compost bins.

That rich compost has now been spread generously over our gardens, where it will break down nicely over winter and nourish the plants come spring. Finally, I've cut back all the roses, and it breaks my heart to cut back the two fairy roses, their waiting buds and beautiful full flower heads in full pink bloom, seemingly impervious to the weather.

The saucer magnolia at the front of the house is surfeit with fat fuzzy buds that will open into glorious magenta blooms in the spring. I cut back, snip off old dead branches from beneath the canopy of our large pine, and do the same with old branches in the umbrella of the flowering pea, the mulberry, gathering all the dark, stiff branches to be composted.

It's quite wonderful to be out there, our two little dogs lazily laying about in the sun, catching the last of its life-affirming warmth before we all must wait out the long winter months. Out there, puttering about, putting things to rights in preparation for next spring, is quite simply exhilarating, even euphoric, deeply satisfying.

Nature-induced bliss.