Today I walked the paths around the ponds at Cherry River fishing access and sanctuary. The snow beneath my feet was packed slush. Overhead clouds were colors of faded denim, dusky lavender,
and violet-gray. The sky, where visible was a washed-thin cobalt overhead and pale lemon
near the horizon.
I didn't hear any song of returning birds. Not even a robin.
The honey, tawny, blonde and russet grasses are mashed by snow. Here and there stragglers, stems at odd angles, leaves curled and wet, wipe the frosted surface. When the sun shines through cloud, their shadows are violet. The old snow still sparkles.
Off in the distance rags of snow litter the mountains and hills.
Canada geese and mallards feed in the ponds' open areas. With each day above freezing, stained ice gives way to open water.
I find solace in walking there. A place to enter Nature's world and leave the cacophony of news behind.