A January Wrapup: Winter’s Slow Approach

I’m going to try to post here more often. I think most of us are feeling the need for a little more nature and beauty these days, so I’m doing my part to send some of that out into the world.

I’m finding myself really paying attention to what’s right outside my door, and taking most of my pictures within walking distance of our house. It challenges me to be creative, and helps me to feel more connected to the natural world. I’m trying to capture the sense of awe and wonder that I feel–I wonder if I will ever tire of it.

That being said, January is not my favourite time of the year. One of my favourite poets, Brian Bilston (find him on social media or at brianbilston.com), perfectly sums up my feelings about the month:

Thirty Days has September,
April, June and November,
Unless a leap year is its fate,
February has twenty-eight.
All the rest have three days more,
excepting January,
which has six thousand,
one hundred and eighty-four.

January seemed long and gray this year, as if everything was waiting for real winter to start. We’d get a dusting of snow, and then a warm or rainy day so that everything melted. And I have to admit, I found myself curling up indoors and feeling down. So here’s my note to myself and my message to you: get outside! It always helps.

A walk in the woods is good for the soul, and the bright green of my favourite mossy roots never disappoints.

The vernal pools had finally filled. The ice and fallen leaves create beautiful patterns. In the spring, these seasonal ponds will be safe, fish-free breeding grounds for frogs and other aquatic critters; by late summer they will have dried up again.

Although many of the birds have gone south for the winter, there are a surprising (to me) number that stick around, like this little Downy Woodpecker.

Northern Harriers, like hawks, eagles, and kestrels, find prey in the fields all year-round.

On a gray day when the precipitation alternated between rain and wet snow, this Red-Tailed Hawk was looking a little bedraggled.

A Rough-Legged Hawk that same afternoon, as the temperature dropped and the wetness became real snow.

The Short-Eared Owls come out at dusk–just when there’s hardly enough light to photograph them.

A number of Snowy Owls spend the winters here, down from their breeding grounds on the Tundra. They’re beautiful and exotic, but it’s important not to disturb them. Stress, and flying away from humans, uses valuable energy that they need for hunting and staying warm, and endangers their survival. We regularly see birders and photographers trying to get too close, trespassing on private property, and generally behaving disrespectfully to the owls and the people who live here. So while I am as excited as anyone to see and photograph a Snowy Owl, I rarely go looking for them. But this one was calmly perched at the top of a telephone pole as we drove by, so I stopped just long enough for a few clicks.

The white-tailed deer are frequent visitors to our field and woods, with a group of six or seven females and juveniles coming by most mornings and evenings. There’s often a buck, or a few of them, hanging nearby.

Another Red-Tailed Hawk, in the snow.

It’s not ONLY about the wild side. Farm country is beautiful too.

Cold weather tends to bring blue skies. Toward the end of the month, a few cold, sunny days made everything seem more cheerful.

On a walk with the dog, the gnarled branches of this shagbark hickory tree, and their spreading shadows, caught my eye.

And finally, one beautiful day near the end of the month, we walked along the shore of Lake Ontario. You can see snow squalls on their way. I was happy to see them coming: I know not everyone feels the same way, but to me it’s not winter until there’s snow!