Included on winter’s list of assets is the visibility of animal tracks…well, visibility to humans. To dogs and others with keen noses, animal tracks are obvious all the time; maybe the snow actually obscures their olfactory view. Humans, sadly, are nose blind. We traipse over thoroughfares all year, totally unaware. When the snow falls, it’s as it someone coated the world in magic paint, revealing secrets in invisible ink that was there all the time.
Crows leave trails of three-pronged prints, making crazy maps with their exploratory hoppings. A fox jumped up on a stone bench (for the view?), then, evidently, sat for a spell. A fountain of mouse trails fans out from the northeast corner of the goat barn, revealing a major travel hub. I’m reluctant to look around inside. I might be content to not know how much mouse traffic goes on inside the goat barn.
So many stories are printed all over the ground. For us, it’s a seasonal publication, a limited edition to be enjoyed all the more for its rarity.
My 60th year in 60,000 words
Day 81: 175 words, TOTAL = 13,599; 46,001 remaining
Robin Clifford Wood is an award-winning author, poet, and writing teacher. She lives in central Maine with her husband, loves to be outdoors, and enjoys ever-expanding horizons through her children, grandchildren, and granddogs.