Winter has come by date but not by nature. Record warmth has taken its place. Without frost or snow the gray and brown tailings of fall lie exposed. The birds, squirrels and other creatures that should be asleep scamper around finding seeds and other food easily. The bird feeders don’t require refilling daily. The wood pile is mostly unused. What hasn’t changed are the skeletons.
Always on time, nothing stops the maples, ashes and other deciduous trees from dropping their garb. Oaks are the last holdouts, but they too eventually succumb by the end of the year. Unlike their evergreen brethren, all are exposed for the coldest season of the year showing off anything that chooses to rest on their branches. A squirrel’s nest perches high on a maple near the shed. Hawks and crows observe on high, their silhouette framed by a clear blue sky devoid of clouds.
The bones of bushes are different than that of the trees as their compactness brings together their residents and characteristics. The forsythia shelter groups of sparrows, nuthatch, snowbird and others hoping to shield themselves from the occasional cold gust of wind. The forsythias on the side are tangled with opportunistic thimbleberry bushes and strands of wild grape who’s broad cover and berries are gone.
The dried flowers of the hydrangea roost on stems devoid of any markings save the yearly pruning that manages their shape and size. They sit as puff bulls reminding us of their past glories. Sunflower and cosmos stalks are not as glorious as their blackened heads removed of seeds wait to collapse with the next strong wind or first snow.
The quince warns of close inspection of its shriveled fruit as its spikes are now unhidden from view; the birds have stayed away. The beautyberry, however, has been feasted on with only a few clumps of iridescent blue berries remaining. The winterberry remains mostly untouched, unusual for this time of year, with large expanses of bright red fruit offering themselves to anyone or thing wanting.
Rhododendrons and dwarf spruces are the few low reminders of how full and bright everything is mid-year. But now, with the greenhouse foundation covered by collapsed brambles, it is hard to imagine, even with today’s warmth that the lushness of summer will return anytime soon. The skeletons will need to wait before their bones see green flesh again.
