This wonderful line from William Stafford's poem "Montana Eclogue" describes perfectly the transition from fall to winter in a place as cold as Montana. A place, this place, this Michigan, where the last gasps of fall
give way to a white landscape. Stafford describes that transition in stanza three of his poem.
darkens; the whole surface of the lake livens….
nothing can hold against that current."
Not the lone Loon
or the gull knowing the Polar Bear's clue.
The burrowing begins.
However, In her Editor's Letter in the February issue of Food and Wine magazine, (BUY this one…it's great!) Dana Cowin posits a fairly radical theory. "Winter is the time to burrow, not entertain. That's many cooks' mantra in the cold months. But I have to disagree; Winter is the season to invite friends over for a real meal." What a concept! I take her cue. As the soft train whistle blows far away this morning, the sound of bubbling pie filling can be heard in my kitchen. The summer-made frozen apple pie comes to its second half-life and fills the room with aroma that harkens back the red warmth of the orchard in August.
Still, we've many months of winter to go. I know, I know. Yet those are made easier with a pot roast to accompany that dessert, some green beans and bread and, voila, we have a colorful palette that, like Logue in Stafford's poem,
"carries us forward a little,
and on his way out for the year will
stand by the shore and see winter in,
the great, repeated lesson every year.
A storm bends by that shore and
one flake at a time teaches
grace, even to stone."
(all photographs copyright Kristin Halgedahl Photography, 2016)