I walked my woods, this cold wintry day. Gusts pulled snow twisters from a thin blanket. Trees creaked in the wind. I saw signs of my work. light splashed a pattern across the shoulder of a distant mountain. No birds followed. In a depression below me,deer beds.

The generations before me, I knew so well. The recent warmth was troubling, believing that the way we live truly is having an effect. First impacts are being felt in vulnerable places, we seldom see. The wind reassures me.

Text: Averill Cook, Photograph: Jock Gill

-- JaneMarsching