Looking north from the road above the ranch.
A Stellar Jay perches on the corner of the railing and calls to me with his raspy voice. It is winter, he is telling me, it is time to begin feeding again. The transient birds have passed through. The juncos and crows dwindle in numbers. Only the Stellars, chickadees, a few magpies and a pair of ravens will remain.
Days are noticeably shorter now. At 4:30, the sun lowers behind the western edge of Ute Ridge. Within a month, that will be closer to 3:30. The next few weeks leading up to Solstice brings a dramatic change. Even mid day the sun will be low in the sky to the south, the shadows long. The ground is allowed to freeze, sending a chill deeper and deeper into the soil. The earth exhales for last time this year, a slow heavy sigh like a distant moan, a mysterious wailing from far away through the woods, and sleeps.
Dormancy on the mountain. Denied only by our human mind. Nature accepts this. We can not. Our lives must go on regardless of the season and according to our schedules, despite nature’s quiet calls, our tired feelings, our lowered energy, the expanding darkness and cold. We turn instead to electric lights and another cup of coffee.
The Aspen stand bare and grey, sap stops running and the life energy sinks down deep in the roots. Mid day when the warmth of the sun is however scarcely alive and well, if only just in her soft low light, the black tailed tree squirrels still chatter from their safe perch on the Blue Spruce as we walk underneath going about our business. Soon they too will sleep for the season. Few will stay, remain active, and alive. The coyote will continue stripping the last of the season’s carrion, digging and pouncing for mice shuffling in the dried grasses pressed beneath the deepening layers of snow. We watch from a distance. So much labor for a tiny reward. The ease of summer has passed.
The mountain sheds her pretence of vibrancy, and allows herself a long season of sleep. I anticipate these changes, am learning what to expect, and enjoy the transformations in the world around me that I know will be there.
Lowered sunlight, longer nights, lessened daytime. The dormant season. Our bodies are aware of it, our minds deny it, and our souls hunger for the quiet repose if we only allow ourselves to listen. But chances are, we will ignore it, fight it, deny it, and try to rise above what nature is trying to tell us.