As winter sinks harder into the core of the landscape, milestones appear as promises and prophesies of the richness of the year already well advanced. The days begin to lengthen now, the earth tilting back toward summer even as the cold deepens.
The sparrows and the tufted titmice know, and they begin their mating calls as December ends.
Then in two or three weeks, foxes mate, owls mate, and migrating crows come back to breed.
In four weeks, cardinals begin their territorial songs.
In five weeks, the doves join in, and bluebirds and the earliest flocks of robins return to the Lower Midwest.
In six weeks, in the warm winds of the Groundhog Day Thaw, opossums and raccoons and squirrels begin to court.
In seven weeks, the snowdrops have come up all budded – even if a foot of snow lies above them – and when the snow melts, yellow aconites emerge, then the tips of daffodils.
And in eight weeks, all the pussy willows will be out, and Virginia bluebells will push out of the ground, no matter what the weather is.
Nine weeks from now, daffodils and forsythia will bloom, and then tulips, and after that there is no holding back.
This is Bill Felker with Poor Will’s Almanack. I’ll be back again next week with notes for the transition week to Deep Winter. In the meantime, it's almost spring.
Poor Will's Almanack for 2023 as well as my new book of essays, The Virgin Point: Meditations in Nature, are now, available on Amazon or from www.poorwillsalmanack.com.
