Winter has proven itself once again to be a season of sharply defined contrast. There are days when the clouds hang so close to the earth our world takes on the appearance of a lunar landscape seemingly lifeless and forbidding. And yet it is not lifeless.

One has only to spend a few moments looking out toward the dormant garden at the feeders to realize how many life forms survived winters lack of clemency.

Cardinals come just after day break to consume one seed at a time. They are never greedy but seem to take time to relish each seed one at a time.

The blue jays, a surprisingly large bird next to the cardinal take as much as they can hold in their beak and fly up to enjoy their breakfast on the outstretched branch of a nearby tree.

The mourning doves are ground feeders and the sparrows and chic-a-dis jostle one another for a spot on the feeder. And then there are the squirrels. Nothing seems to quell their zest for life. Not everyone who feeds the birds like the squirrels. But for me they provide an endless source of entertainment being so skilled at gymnastics and acrobatics. I wouldn’t mind having some of their agility.

Winter then is a season replete with life and life refuses to concede to the arctic chill. Nor do I. A couple of extra layers of clothing is all I need to face winters on its own terms even as I skid and slip precariously on the ice covered walkways.

I’m proud of my ability to face winter on it own terms but I won’t be the least unhappy to see the first signs of spring.