1. Snow Dance at Sand Cave- Accessible only by hiking, Sand Cave is the largest sandstone cave in North America. Inside the cave I wonder at the past civilizations that must have made this their refuge and at the alter-like rock strategically placed in the center of the cave by either the hand of nature or of man. As I turn to leave the cave, the snow gently dances like crystals in the sunlight throughout this hillside into the openness of the forest.

2. Chamnesstown School Trail at Crab Orchard national Wildlife Refuge- Alone and cold are the remnants of this one-room schoolhouse. Children walked this trail from 1855 to 1940 through the winter’s cold, and the frozen pond mirrors their hard pioneer lives. I can imagine their scampering through this forest along this trail and wonder how many times the woods must have lured them to stop and play. In the distance I imagine the schoolmaster imploringly ringing the hand-held school bell until the last child frantically dashes to his seat.

3. Winter’s Kiss at Rim Rock Trail- Today we feel the bite and sting of cold winter wind while hiking the bluffs of Pounds Hollow. With each gust we feel winter’s kiss in the air. Winter has finally come to the forest. The last of fall colors fading into brown, the sting of north winds, and the restless deer and flying geese calling overhead create a new landscape. We know with each cold wind gust that it is a long time until spring.

4. Gathering at Teal Pond- Teal Pond, not far from Bell Smith Springs, is a lovely refuge to the many migratory fowl and birds that winter in Southern Illinois. Here, the chickadees and towhees gather for the woodland feast.

5. Wintertide at Miller’s Grove- Miller’s Grove was a settlement of freed slaves and suspected Underground Railroad activity. In this lush and lonely pine grove the snow weighs heavily on the branches above, and in this perfect stillness there is a Christmas presence.

6. The Snow Day- The anxious anticipation of snowfall and days off school excites us. When the official announcement is made: “snow day!” we bundle up for a day of hard play in the snow to the point of sweet exhaustion. We scamper through the snow with cold, red cheeks. The voices of children tauntingly singing “na, na, na, na, na-na-na-na, na, na” will always be heard on winter playgrounds during any snowball fight. Listen. You will hear them.

7. Paint the Forest Winter- Were I a painter, the moonlit woods would sparkle under a deep blanket of freshly fallen snow, and my canvas would express the beauty and solitude of the winterscape before me. The strokes of my brush would paint for you the openness and scarcity, the sleep and rest, the death and promise of renewal. For this “painter” the brush is my pen and my canvas a blank manuscript paper. Each stroke recreates these sights in a soundscape of motives and rhythms as at my piano I paint the forest winter.

8. Trail of Tears: Kyrie at Brownfield- In the unusually bitter winter of January, 1839 the Cherokee Indians walked through this place along their forced march of relocation known as the Trail of Tears. The conditions were so dreadful that many mothers told their children to flee into the forest for their safety. I cannot imagine the conditions so horrible that I would send my own children, alone and cold into the forest as the only means of saving themselves. Such was the gravity of decisions made along this Trail of Tears by Cherokee mothers. Starving, with little or no shelter, and without adequate clothing, a great number without moccasins, many of the children and elderly suffered and were buried here in unmarked graves. This is your forest; rest here.
Kyrie Eleison: Lord have mercy;
Christe Eleison: Christ have mercy;
Kyrie Eleison: Lord have mercy on us all.

9. Burden Falls- This wonderous waterfall is froaen and stopped magically before me. The force of frozen cascades of water hangs in motionless weight for these days. The water moves beneath the ice to make its own rushing music.

10. At Rendleman’s Grave- Giant City State Park- We hiked through Giant City State Park and followed a trail into a pioneer children’s cemetery, some of whom died of diphtheria epidemic. At the hillside is the lonely grave of a young boy: treasured son, a mother’s tears here at this site, forevermore his hillside view protected with fence posts and wiring, with what they had. Sleeping periwinkles cover this site to come forth in spring. I tried to learn what happened to this boy, but it was too long ago.he lived through the Civil War and dies one day before his birthday. He would have only been thirteen. He has forever touched my soul. His gravestone reads:
William Rendleman
Son of J.M. and M.E. Rendleman
Born September 26, 1856, died September 25, 1869
“Another sweet flower blossoms in the dews of heaven”

11. Promise of Spring at Bald Knob- Winter begins to give way to the promise of Renewal as the first gentle spring beauty appears. The days of unpredictability move from scarcity toward promised abundance, and I watch in awe as spring slowly edges forth. Each spring a new, as if never before seen, delights my days and I watch in anticipation for spring to burst forth in bloom.

12. Vivaldi’s Winter- Largo from Concerto in F Minor- No composer ever painted the soundscape of the seasons as Antonio Vivaldi (1678-1741) in his Concerto in F minor for Orchestra. His sensitive and gentle orchestration for strings in late baroque style leaves me longing to play his melodies at my piano. I humbly fashion my own arrangement of his score in romantic period style to paint the forest winter.