When it gets to be the middle of January or beyond, I start to come down with the dreaded “cabin fever.” I find that a good way to make these days go by is to think about the past. Although I have slowed down considerably, my mind is still telling me to think like I’m 18. Thinking like an 18-year-old and doing are entirely two different things. I have seen on Facebook (not always a place to go for advice) many times, when someone posts a meme that says I feel like doing things like I’m 18, but my body thinks I’m nuts. This can be true, especially in my case.
I plan on doing some painting to help me get through this cabin fever thing. Actually, all that I need is a little thing called incentive. I sometimes feel that I am so busy doing nothing that I don’t take my own advice and stop and smell the proverbial roses.
I have been trying to keep up with filling my bird feeders. At this stage of the winter, I feel like I am feeding all of the birds in the neighborhood, and that’s okay. We have birds and squirrels, which I don’t intentionally feed as they reap the benefits of feed spilled on the ground. We have rabbits in the neighborhood, but lately the only evidence of that is the tracks in the snow. Yes, winter has many surprises in store for those who look for them.
I believe that I acquired my inquisitive nature as a youth. Thanks to the area where I grew up, I had a chance to witness all kinds of critters in their natural habitat. I would get really excited whenever I saw a critter in the wild, like a fox or an owl that had magically turned white in the winter. A few of us kids had gone to this hill that was on the south side of the area slough. We loved exploring that slough in the winter, and on this occasion, had taken our sleds along to play on that steep hill. While we were there, a beautiful white owl flew to an old tree that was atop the hill. It stood there watching intently as we played. Eventually it flew off, swooping down on the slew and catching a small rodent. Watching this event unfold was seeing nature at its best. This was something that has been imprinted in my memory ever since that sunny winter day. I can still see that owl sitting in that tree silhouetted against the clear, deep blue sky.
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The snowy owl, also known as the polar owl, the white owl and the Arctic owl, is a large, white owl of the true owl family. Snowy owls are native to the Arctic regions of both North America and the Palearctic, breeding mostly on the tundra. It has a number of unique adaptations to its habitat and lifestyle, which are quite distinct from other extant owls. One of the largest species of owl, it is the only owl with mainly white plumage. Males tend to be a purer white overall while females tend to have more extensive flecks of dark brown.
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That hill that we visited in itself wasn’t all that long, but it was very steep, and even though there were a few small trees on the hillside, your speed helped overcome most obstacles. As short as that run was, it made the trip down seem like a flash with a sudden stop at the bottom. The trip back up wasn’t as much fun, but as kids we were resilient and the climb didn’t deter us from doing it over and over again.
From time to time when I drive past that slough, I will look to the east and south to see that the hill is still there. There are now houses behind it, but the hill is still standing, along with some trees and some great memories that the kid in me still cherishes. Although my days of traipsing through the slough have long since gone, I can cherish those days and feel lucky to have had the experience.
Until next time: Whenever I look back at the past years, my chest swells up with pride for what they have become. I do have two questions, where did the time go and why so fast?
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