Gray fog, gray clouds and dark days have colored the weeks of winter. The winds are stilled. The windless days mean that plenty of leaves cling to the trees- oaks and apples still have clothes on. Periodically, Ol Sol sheds its veil to entice us with the memory of shorts, t-shirts, and warm skin. Yesterday afternoon I got out on a mountain bike ride and was surprised to see my shadow.

A sliver of light at dawn or a silverish orb in the day are not the same as having a big blast of sun to warm the skin and brighten one's outlook. This persistent drabness often chases away the warm climate immigrant. Many people see Oregon in the beauty of spring or summer when the days are warm and sunny while the fields and hills
are verdant. Other people move here because of their memory of the Oregon Coast's iconic summer days. However, once they move here and experience the beauty of living in an Ansel Adams-like landscape they start plotting their vacations to places that express the chromatic tones of Georgia O'Keeffe. After the second or third year, maybe the fourth, they are browsing Monster.com for jobs in the lands of heat stroke, tornadoes, hurricanes, and Santa Ana winds. The weather here is not dramatic (we do have our moments) but it is persistent and relentless.


Our stream is a drip. The longest night of the year and the driest December on record have come together. Last year the stream was roaring due to above normal rainfall and temperatures in the teens. The climate can get pretty weird. Thomas Friedman coined a phrase that best describes the shifting climate, he calls it Global Weirding. In his 1/17/10 Op-Ed in the NY Times he wrote,.."avoid the term “global warming.” I prefer the term “global weirding,” because that is what actually happens as global temperatures rise and the climate changes. The weather gets weird. The hots are expected to get hotter, the wets wetter, the dries drier and the most violent storms more numerous." 

An Anna's Hummingbird is wintering over and we often see it drinking the nectar from the feeder. In the pre-dawn hours it is sometimes heard but not seen as it buzzes past and perches on top of the birch trees. Climate change doesn't account for their residency because it isn't a completely new behavior. Other people see "hummers" staying on throughout the winter. It is something to contemplate about how the plants and animals will adapt (or not) to the subtle shifts in climate. Is this hummer a clueless/hopeless creature that didn't know it was suppose to head south? Is it ahead of the evolutionary curve in adapting to a change in the migration pattern? Is it just that it likes to hang around us and the food supply? Your guess is as good as anyone's.


Winter plumage of birds mimic the muted tones of winter. This time of year the bright yellow American Goldfinch is brownish, the Rosy Finches aren't so rosy, and the flashy colors of hummingbirds have dulled. One bird that is noticeable this time of year is the Yellow Rumped Warbler (Audobon variety). The touch of yellow on it's side, the brush-thin streak of yellow on its head, and the splash of yellow on its rump appear to be in dramatic contrast to the muted tones around it. Yet when they are mixed in with the browns and orange leaves, the yellow is like camouflage. This 5 inch bird is often a ray of brightness  in the dingy light of day.

The American Robin, even though it is a resident, is much more noticeable because they (and the Red-Shafted Flicker) gather in large groups in the meadow at this time of year. The red breast just keeps "bob-bob-bobbin along" and contrasts with the rich greens of winter.

The darkest time of the year is painted with many different strokes.  The resident birds eat their fill from the feeders. The moles seem to love it because of the damp and easy to dig soil. For those people who experience Seasonal Affective Disorder it can be a time of emotional darkness. The snow skier anticipates this time of year with excitement and anticipation. It is the variety that adds richness to our lives and this planet. Amidst the dark, dim, gray, and wet I remember that it is the flow of light and dark that fills all of life. In closing, here is fog poem by David Whalen: (from PoemHunter.com)

My view of fog

People often view fog in one way only I personally don't see it that way, and... the feeling it conjures is more than just lonely It's totally different... as night is to day It depends on your age and your state of mind to be able to see fog in a different light To see it one way only is to be partially blind and most peoples vision is locked in... too tight Fog, coldly defined, is water suspended in air And while defined so, gives no true definition, and yet we know fog can defy easy description and, can tiptoe soft as a kitten....or slither snake-like from it's lair To a child, fog's a soft, hidey-place plaything, droplets of laughter, giggling out of the mist hiding in nothing, giving seek a new twist..and letting young imaginations take wing To young boys, almost men, fog's a tool to test mettle in a graveyard, on a dare, all alone fog and fear become one, and coldly come to settle chilling young challengers deep to the bone To men at sea, fog's a curse and a bane breaking out of the gloom, looms a tall prow fog's become predator, a creature profane bearing down on small boats like a plow To young lovers, a warm blanket, a caressing embrace Soft arms of mist massage and insist...that limbs, fog, and lips interlace To city dwellers, who walk the streets late at night Fog is a stalker pursuing the walker Waiting to pounce..when no one's in sight Ask any ten people, 'what's the odor of fog? ' And... you'll get different replies, from ten different guys, from brisk, briny sea smell, to smell of wet dog, to perfume worn by Neptune, essence of clouds and blue skies I think that fog is something and nought. A wraith of perception suffused with deception as easily at home.. in fact or in thought I hope in my musings, I've touched you with something made you nod and agree made you see things like me and... if not, like the fog, well then... It''s both something and nothing and whatever you feel it to be David Whalen