Stone Mountain, early February

 Stone Mountain in winter. What’s it like?

• The custom here is to mow the lawn in the middle of December and then put the lawnmower away until spring. I was interested, because I come from the land of year-round mowing. Sure enough, the grasses that make up the lawns here are brown. But the wild onions have come up. I see spikey cowlicks on slick haircuts, the short kind that fellows my age remember as kids.

• Despite the cold, daffodils are coming up in gardens. Jasmine blooms hung on to their vines through a freeze that lasted several days. A couple of weeks ago, I saw yellow flowers with ice on them.

• Gumballs — those spikey seedpods that fall to the ground under trees of the genus Liquidambar — are so thick on the ground that it’s hard to get your footing in some places. One Georgia nature writer used the term “minefield.” The density of the gumballs underfoot is impressive. But I was surprised when I looked up. Most of the sweetgums still have thousands of balls on their leafless limbs.

• The biggest change in winter is so obvious you might not remark on it. The canopy has thinned out. You can sometimes see something 300 yards away. In the summer, you couldn't see 10 yards up the trail. The leaf litter on the forest floor is deep, and in Texas you'd be worried about fire. Here it's damp. All those leaves should decompose quickly.

• I’ve heard geese overhead several times. But the canopy of pines near the house is so dense I haven’t seen them. Then, while walking the enormous dog, eight came over the road, flying just above the trees.

• I heard coyotes howling the other night. When I was a young man, I used to go to sleep to that sound. Two coyotes can convince you they are a pack of 20, and I tried to distinguish the voices. The howling is terrifying to some people, I know. But it’s better than comfort food to me.