Nothing. No tracks but my own are stitched into the dusting of fresh snow, white as birch bark, which fell during the night. No flittering shadows in the trees, not a sliver of bird song in the air.
What sun there is this time of year shines weakly, halfheartedly through the white gauze of clouds, offering not even the slightest pretense of warmth.
For nearly a week now the temperatures around my Wisconsin cabin have not risen above zero. The mercury seems painted to the bottom of the thermometer.
Excerpt From A Promise of Spring By Jeff Rennicke
［注释］
-stitch [stɪtʃ] v. 缝，缝合 to fasten or join with or as if with stitches
-halfheartedly adv. 不认真地，无兴趣地 uninterestingly
-gauze [ɡɔːz] n. 薄纱，纱布，薄雾 a mist or haze
［参考译文］
威斯康星州的冬日
杰夫·伦尼克
白茫茫的一片。没有别的什么踪迹，只有我的脚印如细密的针脚印在积雪上，积雪白如桦树皮，那是昨夜落下的。树上没有鸟儿轻捷的身影，空中也听不到鸟儿的一丝啁啾。
一年中的此刻，阳光无力地闪耀着，懒洋洋地透过薄纱似的云层，丝毫没有暖意。
将近一个星期了，我的威斯康星州的小木屋四周的气温始终没有超过零度。那温度计底部的水银像是粘在那儿似的，一动不动。
（高健 译）
［作者简介］
杰夫·伦尼克（Jeff Rennicke），美国威斯康星州作家，他为美国《国家地理》杂志所写的关于北美洲北部地区的游记深受读者喜爱。