After the Storm

Around us the trees are delicately engraved with a mantle of new-fallen snow. Not the snow that fell so thickly yesterday morning as ice pellets, followed by swirling clouds of snow which forced itself into every crevice and cranny it could manage, even between an unseen opening between our front door and the screen door covering it. This new snow tracing the branches of the trees had fallen this morning.

So although the weather continues on its way, the pattern has shifted slightly. The wind is still present, but not the howling banshee of a wind we experienced yesterday. And the ambient temperature is kinder too, hovering just at the freezing mark. Yesterday's wind whipped rooftops almost clear of snow and it all settled down below in swirls and drifts around the houses, in driveways, against porches.

In the ravine the build-up of snow is notable on the trail for its hardening-cement consistency, difficult to slog through, taking twice as much energy as a normal trail walk would. As we start out into the ravine, marveling at the difference in today's benign atmosphere as opposed to yesterday's wild whirling of wind and snow, the cardinal's trill reaches us from a near distance.

Clouds scud across the sky. Just a few minutes earlier the sky had been clear, the sun shining. A light dusting of snow begins to fall lazily through the atmosphere even as the sun is still visible, beautifully emphasizing this winter arras of northern-landscaped wonder. There are shadows thrown across the thick snow blanket, bringing to gentle relief a tapestry of design left by the feet of small animals; squirrels, mice, rabbits.

Button's long legs are not too challenged, making her way through the ridges and hillocks of snow left behind by those hardy outdoors people who have preceded us this day. Not so Riley whose short little toy-dog legs are given a work-out as he assumes a rocking-horse gait to enable him to move alongside us uphill, downhill, describing the arc of our usual ravine circuit.

We're soon aware that the woods seem dark, and looking up, see the sky now a uniform pewter grey. The lackadaisical flurries have become transformed, they are now urgently heavier, thicker, more determined and the wind begins to pick up, flinging the snow here and there. Soon visibility becomes severely compromised; we can see no further than a few metres through the thick veil of snow.

But we know the trail well and plod on, stopping often to gasp for air and regain strength as we mount another long ascent. The intensity of the snow begins to lift, the atmosphere becomes lighter and on we go, encouraging little Riley, stopping now and again to try to pluck the stubbornly-clinging balls of snow off the long hairs on his stubby little legs. No such problems with Button.

It's kind of wild for a brief moment with the snow being flung everywhere by the wind, but the sting has gone out of it, not to be compared to yesterday's fierceness; this just holds us in its gentle embrace and is surpassingly lovely to behold; to be captured within its wintry essence. Soon the sudden squall lifts and to our surprise we see blue above, shortly followed by the sun bursting through again.

Crows circle overhead, leisurely drifting on updrafts, cawing madly in appreciation. By the time we've cleared the penultimate hill we feel exhausted with the effort of plodding through the snow. Making up for yesterday's missed trek through the ravine during the storm.