Maxwell Wildlife Refuge has gone to sleep. Winter has laid a soft quilt upon its sanctuary. The stillness was tangible long before I reached the lake. Oh yes, there is still some activity but the frenzy of migration has quieted. A field and a small open space in the ice covered lake still welcomed a few geese and cranes. But the songs of migration have quieted. Even the one flock that landed upon the ice was subdued. Perhaps weariness from the week’s storms left little energy for the song of rest. Dust did not leave a trail behind or upon my car. Melting snow, transformed into mud, instead, coated and sloshed the car as I carefully drove the dirt roads. My one attempt to step outside the car was greeted with a slip and slide mud earth that sent me to my knee. I laughed as I tried to de-mud my shoes. Soap and water would take care of my pants.

Maxwell has entered winter’s sleep. She still holds my heart. And through the winter, maybe she’ll also hold the prints of my feet and knee. As I left I gave thanks for the summer and autumn sanctuary Maxwell so generously gifted. A gentle whisper guided my eyes to see the second image. A young hawk, perhaps, cloaked in winter white. Winter’s sentinel bidding me goodbye. Touching my heart I wished him a safe winter. And I chuckled, to think his look was whispering, “Good luck with getting the mud out of your shoes.” Who knows. Maybe I’ll just let my shoes join winter’s sleep. Come spring…like the migrating birds… the mud can return. Sleep well my friend. Blessings…………….and thank you.