Silence as I snowshoe in the woods this morning. The snow is deep, yet my snowshoes let me glide along the top of the drifts. Snow is gently falling from branches overhead with a puff of wind. Ah, but there are sounds; a distant caw of a crow, the snort of an unseen buck warning other deer of my presence, screech of a blue jay, a gliding red tailed hawk soaring from a tall pine tree.
I blazed a new trail along the southern edge of our woods, no houses in sight, or sound of humanity. The wandering takes me through a young grove of aspen with tracks of deer that have eaten any new buds. I come across a deer "highway" with evidence of spots where they have bedded down for the night. Their trails are easier to follow, missing the dense bushes, and buckthorn. Far in the distance, I hear the hum of a snowmobile, others finding joy in the outdoors, yet missing the solitude of the woods. Suddenly above me, the flutter of a wild turkey taking off from its perch on a tall tree branch.
Back on the trail, the sight of our log home ahead.
sisters
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