“I think we are bound to, and by, nature. We may want to deny this connection and try to believe we control the external world, but every time there’s a snowstorm or drought, we know our fate is tied to the world around us.” —Alice Hoffman

I went out this morning to photograph the beauties you see here. The two pots of Gerbera daisies have survived two Mississippi winters now and are still going. About a month ago, they were so depleted and wilted in the heat and drought, I thought they were gone, for sure. But then my husband trimmed them back a little and kept watering (I had given up on them), and now look!

Gerbera daisies, October 2022 / Gerry Wilson

Mississippi winters, you say? What winters?

We do have them this far south, although we often have 80-degree temps on Thanksgiving and/or Christmas Day. Mostly, winter doesn’t arrive full blast until January and February, but when it does, it’s miserable: cold rain, biting wind, below-freezing temps, and sometimes—once in a great while—snow. Or ice. Or both.

We don’t handle snow or ice well in Jackson. An inch of snow, and everything grinds to a halt. A quarter-inch of ice causes havoc on the roads; half an inch cuts off power and brings down massive old oak trees and pines.

But when there’s just the right kind of snow, it’s magical. Several years ago, I woke early on a Sunday morning to a profound silence, and I thought: Could it be? There had been a slight chance of snow in the forecast the night before, not enough to raise my hopes. But the absolute hush, the stillness, made me get up and look out the window. There it was, six inches or so of pristine snow, enough to blanket and transform everything. A day later, it would mostly be gone, but I loved it while it stayed. I don’t think we’ve had a snowfall since, certainly not one to equal it: only a dusting, a slight sheen of ice, just enough to make me wish for more.

So I will wait for it. I’ll hope and watch like the child I once was.

Meanwhile, the daisies will die back this winter. This time, maybe they won’t survive. But come Spring, I’ll watch for the fragile green shoots to rise out of the cold soil, watch for them to come back in all their natural resilience. A reminder for me. For all of us.

2 thoughts on “Seasonal

  1. Hey, Gerry! I was once on WordPress but had to get the app again and it looks different from the older one. If I goof up you’ll have to set me straight for I am still learning how to get around on it.

    I loved this submission for I have the same reaction to snow that you described. I love the calm of a snowfall as it gently drifts down. I tear up over the beauty of it all.

    It’s good to hear from you again. I have missed the MIAL Awards banquets for several years now due to some continuing physical problems. They always send me the program afterwards.

    I don’t know if this goes only to you or to everyone on your list of followers. I’ve signed on and will be eagerly awaiting your beautiful submissions.

    All my best to you and your hubby? Perhaps we’ll meet again some sunny day! (I believe there are several songs in this!)

    Linda Foshee
    Hattiesburg, MS


    • Linda, hello! You did this exactly right, and thank you for reading and commenting. Hoping to revive the blog as I move towards the novel publication in 2024 (a long time off!). Good to hear from you.


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