Dry Grass of Winter

Everything seems to change in the winter. Perhaps it is the loss of leaves, or the dry cold air on the lungs. There seems to be a shift each year. Things slow down. The home becomes more of a focal point. The urge to hibernate is more in our faces. There can be a sleepy industriousness about the fall into winter.

This has been my first winter outside of the Northern woods of Minnesota and Wisconsin in a long time. There is something so sure about winter there. I feel like I am close to winter here in Ohio, but it is different. We can still get rain here in January, and it has only been below 20F for a week or two in February.  

The shift in daylight is helping me make the transition. I am trying to use this time for retrospective thought, and research. I have found myself turning to books to keep me company through the new winter. I also am taking advantage of the “nice” days here. The ground is not fully frozen, so I am able to collect soil if I needed. Though, I have been pretty stocked up so far. Having access to materials year-round can almost feel overwhelming. Like I need to be stocking up for some coming winter. Even though we are nearly through it.

In this time, I also find myself looking at all the dried grasses that were once the lush waving keepers of sunlight. They move with the wind still, but they are changed. Even their sound changes. The once lush sound that seemed to blend so perfectly with the wind has become a dry scratchy sound that only accompanies cold winds. This natural mummification become transfixing to me.

The golden grass patches also decorate the winter landscape. It blends smoothly with snow, and it stands as a beautiful contrast to the dark wet ground when there is no snow to cover it. As I drive through the winter world, I will always keep my eyes out for nice patches of golden winter grass. They sing the song that starts in winter, and keeps its melody through till spring.