The Wheel Turns
Midwinter (or midsummer) is almost here.
In the north, this is the point on the turning of the yearly wheel where all begins to be laid bare. The leaves are mostly scattered in sudden fall and rapid squall, only to regather in corners and dips in the woods to whisper together of the passing of the year, rest before being recycled. The plant cover has disappeared, leaving the occasional skeletal reminder of once vibrant verdancy. The birds have dropped their feathers and grown winter plumage, the animals likewise and stores have been laid down, fat added and safe spaces weatherproofed. All very Brambly Hedge.
When they can, creatures small and large hide away from the cold, whether to dream in snug dens and burrows, or to head to warmer climes and enjoy their northern winter south of the equator. Conversely, it can also be the best time of the year for our civilised and oft-urbanised eyes to learn more about our wilder friends; as layers are stripped from the view, so too does the hidden appear with increasing ease.