It is snowing heavily, and for once I'm experiencing an event that's rare around here: snow in my garden.

Which brings me to a quandary I am facing right now. How do I write about the garden in winter when I live in a climate of little frost and snow?

During most of our maritime Pacific winters, we have more birds and flowers than snow or ice. While flowers tend to be sparse even in the mildest winters, a single blossom can light up a dark corner and shine much more brightly in the gloom of a winter's day than it would in the brilliance of the summer sun. Most of the birds are seasonally drab, but their bright songs make up for that.

So, while the garden is different during this season, it is still beautiful. But how do I grasp the essence of this beauty when the snow which shrouds flower beds, shrubs, and trees sticks around for only a few days and nights (right now, we have three inches, with northeast winds gusting to thirty-five miles per hour. There will be deep drifts in the morning -- but the rains are supposed to return by Tuesday or Wednesday and wash it all away.)

I grew up in snow country (for part of my youth) and I do sometimes miss the wintry interplay of light and shade which can make the garden look as bright as a newly polished mirror or as dull and gray as a bay shore crust of salt.

I guess I'm just musing. Maybe I'll grab a glass of wine, sit by the fire, and watch the raccoons dig peanuts from the snow.