In Praise of Snow, Cold and (sometimes) Sunny

We've had quite a bit of snow and some really cold days up here in northwestern PA so far this winter. We're fairly used to that. Nothing earth-shattering or extremely health-risking. But when the temperature is -10 and the wind chill lower, one does pause when considering an outdoors excursion. There is beauty to be found in this cold, though, and I can never resist a quick trip through my backyard in search of a few prizes.

A warming sunrise through the icicles

Wind-blown drifts I can measure with a yardstick (24 inches, if you must know),

snow capped cone flower seed heads (echinacea purpurera),

and my pink heaths starting to bloom.

When the day is not great, I take a few gray bayberries in my hand and rub them between my fingers. Their delightful smell is all I need.

and no matter what, the winterberry (Ilex verticulata) shines this time of year.

And when the sun comes out, well,

a drift over on the roof become art against a crisp azure sky

and gulls become little white specks soaring high in an ethereal sea.

The sun warms without heat

I  enjoy the disheveled beauty of a magnolia pod

and the simple pleasure of watching a dry leaf blow across the frozen surface 

or finding these delicate bird tracks etched in the snow.

Winter is not always at home for me.

We've had trips to find snowy owls which have been popping up all over this winter much to everyone's delight.

This past weekend, Mike and I celebrated our anniversary in an Adirondack shelter in Oil Creek State Park. With tarps to close it in and a fireplace to warm us, it was a cozy night. The setting sun lit up the woods. Its glow held the promise of summer. 

It may be cold outside but, so far, the winter has been quite warm, really.

Rewards

Today was a good day. A day to savor every small bit of the garden that is still shining. A day for standing in the sunshine and drinking in the warmth of an October sun. No big swaths of color to thrill anymore. Just little treasures like this magnolia pod that has burst open to reveal its richly red seed.

And the finely described pinwheels of the sweet autumn clematis seeds (Clematis paniculata or sometime c. terniflora).

The one aster (Aster novae angliae) plant that bloomed pink rather than purple like the rest.

I'm still enjoying the morning glories that are still magnificent,

and a sedum that drapes softly over some european ginger.

There are still some roses

The marigolds that I plant each year in honor of my mother are still blooming without a care,

and the fat seed heads of the sunflowers are now a smorgasbord for the goldfinch and chickadees.

Every single one of these things are the rewards I reap for making a garden. I never take them for granted. But today I got to savor one big reward for a decision I made 12 years ago.  I like native plants and I like birds. I have made an effort to plant native shrubs that produce things birds like. Twelve years ago I planted a very small northern bayberry shrub (Myrica pensylvanica), as it was always one of my favorite shrubs for its waxy leaves and the smell of its beautiful, gray berries. I included it in the bouquets for my winter wedding.  I was delighted to discover a few years later that yellow-rumped warblers (a juvenile shown below) are some of the very few birds that can digest the waxy coating of bayberries.

Courtesy Cornell's http://www.allaboutbirds.org/

That small shrub I planted all those years ago, along with two more have now grown into a large hedge along with some winterberry (Ilex verticulata) and a summersweet shrub (Clethra alnifolia). 

This morning I spotted a yellow-rumped warbler in the yard for the first time ever. This afternoon I watched it land in the bayberry and eat a few berries. They came, they came!

This is one of the sweetest rewards of my life.