Snowdrops are small white flowers from bulbs that bloom in late winter. We have a patch at the end of our driveway. With a mild winter they were in full display at the end of January before being buried in a couple of snowfalls last week.
Here in New York we have seasons to remind us of change. Perhaps the metaphor of “death and birth” is a bit too romantic _ it really is “dormancy and rejuvenation.” The thing is, unlike the similar metaphor of sleep and awakening, the environment really does undergo vast and rapid transformations.
Everywhere on Earth is always changing. Some landscapes vanish quickly in volcanic eruption or flood. Some _ like drought or invasive species _ take a long time. The more drawn out, the less we notice, day-to-day all seems normal. Seasons merely compress that sensibility into a yearly cycle of surprises.
And, I admit, a fair amount of suspense, especially these days. Will a given tree or shrub survive the winter and leaf out again? Will certain new insect pests live through the lesser chills and expand their malevolence? Will even more birds and butterflies be missing or gone forever?
It only took a few years for all the once thriving lobsters to vanish from Long Island Sound _ following the more extended demise of most colonial wildlife around here. Planetary tipping points are much in our minds. Sure some ecology will survive almost anything, but will we like it?
All that wrapped into a meditation on a quiet, overcast, cold February morning, with certain spring, but uncertain details, right around the corner.
HuntingtonHarborThoughts 