Face the Wind

Communication is one of those things we don't miss until we don't have it.  I take for granted the quick connection available by picking up a telephone or turning on the computer.  This past Saturday at 4:12 am, Our electric went out and about the same time, our phone line broke.  The phone line had broken two winters ago but was spliced by a repairman who said it was only a temporary "fix." The line needed replaced.  Well, he had the temporary part correct.  The splice came apart in the weekend's wet heavy snowfall.  I still had my cell phone, so all was well enough.  The phone line now repaired again, on the ground covered by a few inches of snow, but the internet is up and running so we're happy.

The house was dark and quiet Saturday so it seemed a great time to bundle up and head out into the storm.
While wind blew biting snow into my face I walked across fields and through the woods to see what nature had to offer.  I kept going forward in the happy knowledge that the return trip would find the wind at my back, giving my face some respite.

The heavy wet snow stuck to tree branches, bending them toward the ground and holding them in place as the wind moved around gray trunks laying a cold white stripe on the windward side of each.

This dogwood in the left photo became a white specimen more thickly flocked than any tree in the miniature snow scenes of my Christmas memories.

The stark contrast of dark trunks appeared to have come from an artist's pallet after dipping her twisted brush tip into black then pulling upward in long thin strokes.

Here and there bits of color stood out amid the black and white landscape shown below in the green of lichen clinging to the bark of an oak tree.

It was already noon yet I had not yet seen any tracks other than my own to mar the snow.  I cautiously passed under the treehouse, its roof laden with extra pounds of wet snow. I didn't want this to be the moment it decided to let go of the giant dead tree to which it clung.

As I looked over the hill top into the community below I saw our pond, not quite frozen and empty of the neighbor's ducks that often visit, sifting its muddy edges for a meal.
Little stirred below. Only a few cars ventured up the highway, their drivers intent on whatever mission drove them out of their warm blanketed homes.

I made a detour through the trees to check out any action in the hawk's nest.  Seeing none, I turned and headed back across the white plane, my face happily turned away from the driving wind. Hot chocolate sounded real nice. I would make a cup of chocolate milk, put it in the microwave and  . . . .oh, that would take electric, wouldn't it?

PS:  I couldn't resist showing you this flock of turkeys in a persons yard that I passed yesterday.  Where were they? You may not believe me, but they were on the aptly named Turkeyfoot Road.

Enjoy your day!