The rolling hills which surround French River, Prince Edward Island are straw coloured today.
They display the imprint of the machinery which mowed them last autumn. Nothing moves as the fields stretch out in the February light, absorbing every bit of energy they can. Spring can’t come soon enough.
Nothing appears to move in the village either but a lone dog can be heard barking into the cold air. Maybe he wants to go inside too.
New London Bay is frozen.
Its arm stretches up to French River where fishers have their shacks for storage of the equipment necessary to ply their trade.
The ice hugs the wharf now but boats will be moored there in April as fishers prepare for the lobster fishery again. The boats have been brought to storage away from the wharf. Many stood near houses along the route to French River.
Across the water, the golf course has been abandoned to the elements for several months as visitors returned home to work-a-day life and the locals leave the courses to wait out another winter.
The coniferous trees look black-green in the February light as they wait for the sun to return to its full strength.
Nature is asleep.