One of Claude Debussy's most haunting and beautiful preludes is, in English translation, entitled Footprints in the Snow (Des pas sur la neige.) and this morning that melody popped in my mind as I crunched across our five inch crust of arctic tundra, checking and filling feeders. For on the lightly dusted top layer I saw bird tracks seemingly everywhere, but especially in all of the places I would expect to see great concentrations of groundlings. This is not a sight we come across very often on the southeast Piedmont. Even when it snows the frozen precipitation doesn't usually allow such an exquisite artwork to take place. And here it is, and I wonder how many people even notice it. Soon they will vanish away. Even on our nastiest, coldest days, snow is an ephemeral thing and perhaps by week's end will be utterly gone. What a delightful and beautiful image, even for a few hours.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Des Pas Sur la Neige
One of Claude Debussy's most haunting and beautiful preludes is, in English translation, entitled Footprints in the Snow (Des pas sur la neige.) and this morning that melody popped in my mind as I crunched across our five inch crust of arctic tundra, checking and filling feeders. For on the lightly dusted top layer I saw bird tracks seemingly everywhere, but especially in all of the places I would expect to see great concentrations of groundlings. This is not a sight we come across very often on the southeast Piedmont. Even when it snows the frozen precipitation doesn't usually allow such an exquisite artwork to take place. And here it is, and I wonder how many people even notice it. Soon they will vanish away. Even on our nastiest, coldest days, snow is an ephemeral thing and perhaps by week's end will be utterly gone. What a delightful and beautiful image, even for a few hours.
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