I've given much thought to the purpose of seasons these past few days. In fact, I've been doing nothing but thinking and reading this past week, since it's far too cold outside to do much of anything else.
First there's spring. My favorite season of the year. Spring gives me promise and hope. It's the season for birth and renewal. The birds are singing and the first sign of flowers pop out of the ground for all the world to see if they look for it.
Then there's summer. Summer to me represents growth. I see it in my garden (especially the weeds). The birds are taking care of their babies who are growing by the day.
Fall is harvest. It's time to harvest the bounty that has grown upon us all summer. This includes the leaves that fall from the trees, as their season of growth is over and it's time to shed that growth to be ready for next year.
The season I have the most difficult time pondering is winter. What exactly is the purpose of winter. I think about this as I'm pressing my face against the window eagerly searching for the birds. It is 7:30 am and there is not one bird out there. I start to worry because it was so cold last night. I think of frozen bodies of birds out in my yard who didn't make it through the night. I search the sky for starlings in hopes for a glimpse of even them. Winter is harsh and unforgiving, especially for the birds. Is winter the season for survival of the fittest in the animal world? A season to rid nature of the weak and suffering? That is probably an extreme feeling to associate with winter, but I can't help to feel this way with the cold temperatures we have been having.
I finally see some of my regulars at the feeder. This tufted titmouse has discovered the shelled peanuts I put out for him in a feeder and he flys off to get it. A cardinal sees the feeder too and waits for the tufted titmouse to be done so he can grab one too.
And then I see the bird I've been waiting for. The Carolina Wren. My neighbors and I call him Stubby because he seems to have lost his tail feathers this winter and all that is left is a little stub. He's been in my brush pile and decides to peek his head out to see what's for breakfast. I grab my camera and curse the lack of sun which makes getting a decent photo impossible (plus the fact that the brush pile is far from my window). I have often read that Carolina Wrens die in weather this extreme. This one has survived another day and I find myself happy because of it.
I walk away from the window with a better perspective on winter. Winter is a time for rest. The trees are resting, the bears are resting, and I am resting on the couch with a good book and my favorite blanket with a hot cup of tea. I hope the birds find a warm place to rest tonight and stay safe so they can be ready for spring. I think we are all ready for spring.Just came in here to add this photo. His mate came and found the peanuts. I have to thank Sharon for the thumbs up on the peanut feeder. All the birds love them. I am going to have to get the smaller ones at the pet store though because I actually shelled these ones myself and they are too big. The wren gets to them just fine though!