Ah, That Wind!

Yesterday's ramble through the ravine was a challenge at minus-7 C, but there was little wind to speak of, and although by the end of our circuit, my husband, looking at me, laughed that I looked like a little wooden soldier with bright red cheeks, we managed all right.

Button, with her long legs, small though she is, did fairly well, trudging through the newly-fallen snow on the trail awkwardly booted, but Riley, pumping his short little legs, faced far more difficulty and required assistance from time to time. Assistance in the form of being scooped up and carried along for a bit of relief, poor little tyke.

We looked for the owl, but nowhere was that elusive bird to be seen. Likely holed up somewhere comfortable; makes sense for a mostly nocturnal beast. The snow fell steadily while we charged our way forward, and by the time we reached the end of the walk and approached our house down the street from the ravine entrance, we felt well exercised.

And took turns slapping the snow off one another's hoods, shoulders and boots.

Today was even colder, not edging up above minus-9, but the big difference was the prevailing wind. Prevail it most certainly did, blowing all of yesterday's day-long snowfall in bursts and eddies, from rooftops down upon newly-shovelled driveways. We even experienced a few light flurries, although the sun did come through for most of the morning. As it was when we entered the ravine once again for our daily ramble.

We'd been told the day before to expect a total snowfall of 5 cm but we'd received far more than that by early morning, so a total twice that expected was likely to have occurred. And it most certainly appeared that way as we headed through to the ravine, clomping our way through untamped snow on the trails, due partly to the recently fallen snow, but more likely to the effect of the wind howling over the landscape, lifting the snow, depositing it everywhere.

The trees are beautiful beyond inadequate description, fluffed and laden with soft snow. Button and Riley once again padded courageously through the snow drifts, doing their best to maintain a steady enough pace, we urging them on. They need the exercise, the fresh air, the anticipation of snuffling entertainment awaiting their enterprising noses. Overhead, gusts of wind raged through the treetops, and we could hear trunks clacking against one another.

The wind, knocking clumps of snow off branches, the snow hurtling below, to dump on the trail, to embroider the smooth snow surface, to anoint our heads. It's cold enough to bring tears to my eyes, and I temporarily experience a strange double vision; blink and it's gone. Sheets of snow drift like ectoplasm off branches, but the snow plastering the trunks of the trees stays there, glued and gilded to its host.

Sheltered stands of far-off fir and spruce, seen across the valley retain their snow covering, elaborating upon their every outline and detail, reminding us of their presence, undistinguished other than a blur of green at any other time of year. Elsewhere, alongside the trail, heavily burdened pine boughs hang low across the trail, as though daring us to disturb the beauty they have inherited with this latest snowfall.

Push them aside, and receive a shower of sun-glanced, shimmering snow crystals. Snow is mounded in lovely curves and elongated, smooth ridges, layered and teased by the wind. The creek has started to freeze over again, and snow lays smoothly, curvaceously across the creek now, lending it a grace and stillness unseen at any other time of year. A woodpecker goes about its business, knocking on wood.

There are no signs, this clear and wind-hectored day of woodland creatures scuttling about. The new snow lies untramped by small animal feet.