The Unfading Beauty of a Gentle and Quiet Winter
There is no quiet like the stillness that comes with a dense early morning fog, a heavy blanket of gray mist wrapped snugly around the immediate world, insulating and isolating. Sounds come through faintly, if at all, heard as if from a great distance. There is no sunrise, just a gradual lightening as the day dawns and the very atmosphere, rather than the sky, fades from slate, to smoke, to silver and pearl.
Squinting into an enshrouding mist, eyes stinging with cold, shapes begin to appear: Tundra Swans glide elegantly, silently past; Northern Harriers course low over leaden water; a White-tailed Kite perches motionless, nearly invisible, a study of black-on-white-on-gray.
The seasons in central California are unique. In many parts of the temperate world, the dazzling brilliance of ruddy autumn fades into the piercing cold of a white winter as wild storms blow, blizzards rage, trees bend beneath the weight of snow, and ice chokes waterways. But not so here. In the unique Mediterranean climate of California's Great Central Valley, there is no dry icy chill.
The weather does indeed turn cold - damp, deep, cold, as oppressive as a heavy blanket of fog, a dull, aching cold that settles into the bones - but it maintains a gentleness. Winter storms are brief, giving way to brilliant sunshine, and ice melts shortly after dawn. Here, after a lingering summer bleeds into a hot, hazy, golden autumn, winter steals in gently, quietly, ushering in a season of cold rain and gray fog. Fog is our winter hallmark: high fog, low fog, swirling fog, still fog.
While many delight in glittering white fresh snowfall high in the Sierra, and revel in unseasonably warm blue-and-gold days of sunshine along the coast, it takes a special soul to appreciate the subtle beauty of dove-gray winter in California's Great Central Valley. The scientist's heart thrills at the sound of thousands upon countless thousands of migratory waterfowl wintering on the Valley's ancient wetlands, while the artist's eye is enchanted by the soft, subtle, exquisite beauty of the winter color palate.
Shades of gray, from the deep cold grays of heavy fog and frigid water, to the warm soft grays of bare branches and wasted weeds, mingle freely with tawny grasses and fawn-colored reeds. Sculptural trees spread their limbs across a flannel sky, showcasing bark in the richest shades, buff to mahogany, deeply riven and sinuously smooth.
And over all is a cast of the softest green, tints of life gently hinting at a spring that is yet to come, whispering of a secret spring that is already alive, lying quietly beneath the sepia landscape. For winter is really California's spring. Winter is the rainy season, the wet season, the season of abundant new growth. Plants that have lain dormant throughout the long, hot, dry summer and autumn begin to wake with the first winter rains. By January, dun-colored hillsides begin blushing green once again, as grasses and forbs push through last year's gray thatch to renew the land, clothing it in verdant splendor.
Don't discount our winter. The land may look bleak, but it is not barren. Life abounds in the grasslands, wetlands and oak savannas of the Great Central Valley. Compared to many places, our winters are quite mild, gentle, and quiet - and they are bursting with life! I encourage you to pack a thermos of hot tea, wrap up and head outdoors this winter to experience the quiet beauty of this season. You won't even need snowshoes (but mittens and beanies are a must)!
Check out my suggestions for where to go to experience the remaining wilds of the Great Central Valley, or come along with me on a winter walk through the San Joaquin River National Wildlife Refuge and Cosumnes River Preserve.
Squinting into an enshrouding mist, eyes stinging with cold, shapes begin to appear: Tundra Swans glide elegantly, silently past; Northern Harriers course low over leaden water; a White-tailed Kite perches motionless, nearly invisible, a study of black-on-white-on-gray.
 |
| A White-tailed Kite, mid-afternoon on a cold, damp, day (San Joaquin River NWR) |
The seasons in central California are unique. In many parts of the temperate world, the dazzling brilliance of ruddy autumn fades into the piercing cold of a white winter as wild storms blow, blizzards rage, trees bend beneath the weight of snow, and ice chokes waterways. But not so here. In the unique Mediterranean climate of California's Great Central Valley, there is no dry icy chill.
The weather does indeed turn cold - damp, deep, cold, as oppressive as a heavy blanket of fog, a dull, aching cold that settles into the bones - but it maintains a gentleness. Winter storms are brief, giving way to brilliant sunshine, and ice melts shortly after dawn. Here, after a lingering summer bleeds into a hot, hazy, golden autumn, winter steals in gently, quietly, ushering in a season of cold rain and gray fog. Fog is our winter hallmark: high fog, low fog, swirling fog, still fog.
 |
| Fog and mist: birding shortly after "dawn" on a dismally foggy day in California's Great Central Valley (San Joaquin River NWR) |
While many delight in glittering white fresh snowfall high in the Sierra, and revel in unseasonably warm blue-and-gold days of sunshine along the coast, it takes a special soul to appreciate the subtle beauty of dove-gray winter in California's Great Central Valley. The scientist's heart thrills at the sound of thousands upon countless thousands of migratory waterfowl wintering on the Valley's ancient wetlands, while the artist's eye is enchanted by the soft, subtle, exquisite beauty of the winter color palate.
 |
| After a long day of thick fog, a wan sun shone bravely for the last hour before sunset - a truly golden hour. (San Joaquin River NWR) |
Shades of gray, from the deep cold grays of heavy fog and frigid water, to the warm soft grays of bare branches and wasted weeds, mingle freely with tawny grasses and fawn-colored reeds. Sculptural trees spread their limbs across a flannel sky, showcasing bark in the richest shades, buff to mahogany, deeply riven and sinuously smooth.
 |
| Statuesque Great Egrets on a sculptural tree (San Joaquin River NWR) |
And over all is a cast of the softest green, tints of life gently hinting at a spring that is yet to come, whispering of a secret spring that is already alive, lying quietly beneath the sepia landscape. For winter is really California's spring. Winter is the rainy season, the wet season, the season of abundant new growth. Plants that have lain dormant throughout the long, hot, dry summer and autumn begin to wake with the first winter rains. By January, dun-colored hillsides begin blushing green once again, as grasses and forbs push through last year's gray thatch to renew the land, clothing it in verdant splendor.
 |
| The sun - and new life - begin to break through! (San Joaquin River NWR) |
Don't discount our winter. The land may look bleak, but it is not barren. Life abounds in the grasslands, wetlands and oak savannas of the Great Central Valley. Compared to many places, our winters are quite mild, gentle, and quiet - and they are bursting with life! I encourage you to pack a thermos of hot tea, wrap up and head outdoors this winter to experience the quiet beauty of this season. You won't even need snowshoes (but mittens and beanies are a must)!
Check out my suggestions for where to go to experience the remaining wilds of the Great Central Valley, or come along with me on a winter walk through the San Joaquin River National Wildlife Refuge and Cosumnes River Preserve.
 |
| Parting shots: A flock of American White Pelicans fly into the monochromatic sunset of a dawnless day. (San Joaquin River NWR) |
Comments
Post a Comment