You could argue that the headline applies to this blog. After all, I haven't posted anything for more than a year. But really, I was thinking of Poole Creek itself. When I look at the creek today, I don't see any creek at all. Just snow and ice. Nothing moves, nothing eats, nothing hunts, nothing sings.
It all seems absolutely still. But underneath tells a different story.
A few weeks ago, the snapping turtles took their last breath of the year and dove to the creek bottom; they'll take their next breath months from now when the surface ice melts. For their part, the toads and frogs have burrowed deep into the earth, below the frost line. And the beavers have retreated to their lodge, though they still swim out, below the ice, to nibble on their cache of tree branches.
From where I stand, Poole Creek seems fast asleep. But the creek and its denizens are simply waiting. Waiting for Spring to return, as it has done for millions of years and as it will do for millions more, God willing.
In the meantime, the creek holds unexpected pleasures for surface-loving creatures who brave the winter without any form of self-preserving burial. Case in point: my wife and I walked down the path to the creek yesterday and what we experienced was... well, allow this picture to tell the thousand words:
Merry Christmas, everyone.
