The land is taking on a strange hue now. Usually it’s covered with snow, so we don’t get to see this. Right now, it’s stark and bare with small patches of ice. The green left a while ago. It was replaced with brown, as it always is. But now the brown is gone, and it has been replaced with grey. It’s just a vast sea of grey. I almost feel embarrassed to look at it, as if I’m somehow a peeping Tom looking at something I’m not supposed to see. No one gets to see this transition.
|A sea of grey.|
But here it is, and maybe it’s a good thing. The underbelly of winter is rarely ever noticed. Now we get to see the nuts and bolts of winter. Now we get to see true winter, not the “clothed in angelic white snow” part but the raw and uncensored part. And make no mistake about it: it’s winter. The land seems to know something that most people do not. All around me, I hear the cries about the lack of snow. “Where is the snow?? You call this a winter??” The land seems unfazed, however, and is proceeding directly on schedule.
I almost hear laughter in the background, a hidden snickering in the woods. It says, “You ain’t seen nothing yet!” And I believe it. I have been here long enough to know the tip of the iceberg when it shows itself. Something is coming.