Many of the Michigan folk I know warn me that I would probably not enjoy an Irons. Michigan, winter. Heavy snowfall. Cold weather. Getting snowed in unless you have snowshoes, ski or snowmobile. Well, to be honest I don’t mind snow or cold weather. We don’t get that much snow here in the Chicago area, but we used to get a fair amount and with my 4 wheel drive it doesn’t bother me. If I didn’t have to worry about getting in and out of the house to get to work it probably wouldn’t be too bad. They do make snow blowers and plows. And I don’t mind hefting a snow shovel.

I love the soft, clean beauty of the woods clad in snow. The blanket of peace it covers me with is a warmth I truly savor. The way every thing seems so quiet and serene; and yet the way the sound travels better, more crisply without the interference of stereos and horns and televisions, without the hustle and bustle of urban life. The eerie and yet hauntingly beautiful hoot of an owl or the call of a coyote become things of audible joy.

I imagine being at Brookwood in the winter, with a mantle of snow and the dizzying spectacle of sun or moon reflecting from icicle. In my minds eye I am looking out on the clearing to see the ice crystals in the snow reflecting the light of the sun like so many jewels on a bed of white sable. Enjoying the deep prints of wildlife tracking here and there….the slender hoof of the deer that pierce the crust and cluster around the salt lick and the corn I have put out for them, and the tiny scratching on the surface of squirrel and birds, the large pads of a coyote with claw tips apparent, and the other miscellany footprints in the snow.

I look out to the creek and there I can see the spots along the bank where the rushing of the creek has undercut the snow bridges at the edge.

I feel the chill in the air on sleeping porch as I gather kindling from the wood bin to stoke the wood stove and percolate my morning coffee. Then I take my Kindle and travel to Grandmother’s chintz couch in front of the fireplace with mug, Kindle and a piece of homemade Johnny cake fresh from the oven slathered with jam. Tucking my feet beneath me I curl up in the cozy warmth and thank Heaven for another day enjoying the beauty of nature and life.

With a start I realize this was a trip in my imagination, a dream of what might have been, what could be; with a sigh I turn back to my day’s work in the suburbs tucking away my vivid dreams for another time I seek solace, peace and beauty.