The ground is hard and sharp and the air is soft and welcoming during this time of intense temperature change.
Getting to my special place of land-based learning has been difficult this moon. The temperature is extremely low, dropping down to -30 or colder. The ground has been covered with snow which was then packed down, and lately the temperatures have been rising, causing a freeze-and-thaw that creates a layer of thick slippery ice to navigate. To top it all off, I broke a toe in my right foot, which makes walking anywhere painful and difficult. But I gathered my courage, called my dog Tucker, and headed out in the van to make memories and reconnect with this land, where so much learning and connection has been established.
Some parts of the trail are more difficult to navigate than others. I am intensely curious about places where wind and human footsteps have created textures and patterns, little waves and dips throughout the snow. My attention is also captured where the snow turns to hard ice, and getting a grip is a faint possibility or becomes completely impossible. It is a little scary to try and walk here, especially as I pick my way down the hill that acts as the entry to my special place.
I am also fascinated by the layers of snow that have built up over time, and are now starting to melt in some places. The snow and ice have packed down so thick in areas that the ground has risen by a foot or more. Now that warmer temperatures have come to disrupt the icepack, you can see how far away the true ground, free of snow and ice, really is. I pass by the stump that I know hosts orange jelly brain fungus in the summer - is it still there, sleeping in the snow? I cannot disturb it so I won't know for sure, but I imagine it in its shriveled winter form, hibernating these cold snowy moons away.
I walk carefully, being mindful of my sore foot. I am grateful for being brave and gathering the courage to come, even though my foot might be swollen and sore afterward. Buffalo spirit comes to mind, as I face the challenges of this moon head-on. The cold has kept me away for too long, and I don't want a relatively minor injury to prevent me from visiting and reconnecting to this special place.
As I am walking, I grow aware of a special synchronicity with this place. The ground feels sharp, icy, and hard, and the air feels soft, inviting, and warm. My foot feels spiky and achy, and my legs are braced to prevent slipping, but my upper body from the waist to my arms and head feels free, relaxed, and open to nature. I perceive that I am matched to nature, the pain in my foot reflecting the hardness of the ground. I am reminded of a berry-picking memory with my mom, when I was around 12 years old. It was a bumper year, and we were gathering saskatoons. As we picked the branches, which were heavy and laden down with berries, I asked if she thought the saskatoon bushes were relieved to be freed from their burden - was there a release in having the berries picked? She replied that she did not know, but it is a thought I have returned to many times since. As a breastfeeding mother, I can acutely remember the feeling of engorgement and then release as my babies fed. Are saskatoon bushes the same way, do they feel belabored and heavy with berries, then fresh and free when the berries are released? Does the earth, frozen and tamped down with ice and snow, feel cramped and uncomfortable, just waiting for the sun to release the imprisonment of layers of cold hard-packed frozen water? There are no answers here, only questions, but my maternal self whispers yes. When the heat of the sun releases inches or feet of packed-down frozen ice and snow, the earth breathes a sigh of release.
This moon there is a synchronicity here between me and the land, where ease and care are balanced both within my body and within the natural surroundings I am immersed in. My feet and legs take great care to be safe and avoid pain, and the earth is taking great care to be resilient despite the heavy and maybe crushing layers of snow and ice pushing down, freezing it. My upper body feels relaxed and open, and is reflected by the air which is so soft, inviting, and warm. The juxtaposition is striking, with my feet and legs matching the ground and my upper body matching the air.
As I walk with my dog Tucker, I am acutely aware of my heart opening, my brain clearing, and my shoulders relaxing. I can hear the playful burble of the stream, and the happy call of birds - I detect at least three different species singing around me. I feel a strong sense of safety, like slipping into a warm, comfortable, familiar sleeping bag. The earth and nature around me provide me with limitless space, so all aspects of my being can unfurl and regain balance.
What is being communicated is the contrast of warmth and cold, hard and soft, that this winter-spring feeling day offers. I perceive the warmth on my skin, and the icy hardness of the ground through my legs as they brace. My toe throbs, seeming to be in relationship to the sharp cold ground, and my legs and hips are stiff and cautious, but upper body feels free, open, spacious, and relaxed, matching the softness in the air. I interpret this as a promise of spring, of summer, and warmer days to come, and as a reminder that even when the world or nature seems unforgiving, gentleness can still be found.
For my winter count symbols, I wanted to create peg dolls that represented the warm relaxing calm offered by the air and sky, and contrast that with the icy, hard, unforgiving ground. I made three, one to represent soft, one hard, and one to highlight the contrast. My favorite is the soft blue one, but only because the hat on the white-and-blue contrast doll turned out so weird!
Making Snow Play Fun Again!
What I have found over years of playing outside with children in the winter months is that at a certain point, the joys snow offers decrease. Because we go outside every day except when the temperature dips below -20, and spend as long as we can exploring the snow, the children can get bored. Over weeks and months, they have made snow angels and snow people, watched for tracks and snowflake patterns, and come up with many unique ways to play with snow and ice. But there comes a time when new materials and loose parts are called for, to bring fresh ideas and ways to play into the winter space.
1 - Provide Snowball Makers!
These inexpensive tools can take even loose dry snow and pack it down into balls of snow. Sometimes the snowballs get thrown, usually at a fence or tree, but most of the time they become other items in the minds of the children. Here, my daughter is creating a dragon's nest filled with white eggs!
2 - Leave Out the Sand Tools
Rather than putting items like these away, leave them out so children can play year-round. The boys are using sand shovels and gardening trowels to make patterns and clear the layer of snow off the picnic table, and the group of children is making snow castles with natural decorations rather than sand castles. Don't put it away, let the children play!
2 - Consider Adding Loose Parts
Snowball makers and sand toys are great, but the outdoor environment can also be enhanced with built or created loose parts. I did not want expensive toys to get broken, so after some though I created ice blocks with the children, and scavenged board ends from a construction site (with permission!). The colorful ice blocks provide hours of play - children stack them, taste them, and try to break them; they bury them, count them, and talk about the colors. As winter turns to spring, these ice blocks just melt away.
The wood blocks act as large building blocks, or balancing beams. I store them right under the dryer vent to prevent them from freezing together. When they become too old and worn to play with, they can be repurposed as firewood!
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