The Lull Before
After breakfast this morning when Button and Riley went out for the second time to have a walk-about the backyard, we heard the clear, bell-like trill of a cardinal. And soon saw not one, but a pair, male and female, at the top of a neighbour's tree adjacent the back corner of our yard. The male a bright scarlet, the female dun-brown with a bright red beak, and both handsomely crowned. Ah, spring but a few weeks away.
Yesterday we had to scramble over mounds of piled-up snow to access the trailhead to the ravine. There to discover that no one had yet broken trail, though it was by then mid-afternoon. A lovely day it was, with mild temperatures, just under the freezing mark, and the sun peeking out from scudding clouds time and again. We carried our little dogs, meaning to deposit them once we accessed the trails.
Every step we took sunk a foot deep into the new snow. Not possible to set them down; the snow would completely engulf them. We descended the first long hill into the ravine nonetheless, thinking the main trails would have been traversed, surely. But no, they had not. And clearly, progress was not possible for us and there would be no point for us to struggle onward any further, since we would be unable to have Button and Riley take their ravine walk as usual.
Today, though, it was a different story. Milder yet even than yesterday, but overcast. Not even a hint of wind. Once we surmounted the initial obstacles we could see that there had been others out, besides ourselves in our failed attempt of yesterday. And, gaining the top of the first hill, there was a decidedly cleared, albeit extremely narrow trail. We deposited our little dogs and away we all went. Crows flew overhead, cawing coarsely.
A cardinal sang as we proceeded, from somewhere close by. Chickadees were happily engaged in flitting about the trees, still laden, albeit lightly, from the previous day's snowfall. Wind and warm weather allied with the sun to melt much of the snow from deciduous branches, though it clung yet to evergreens. A wonderfully bright landscape, undulating and softly white, that my camera captured here and there as we proceeded.
Footing was a bit of a problem, since the trail hadn't been flattened, merely pocked here and there by earlier treading trail walkers. Walk too close to the edge of the trail and you're stuck, deeply, in a clasping embrace that can suck your boot off your foot. We're conscious of walking at a height we're not accustomed to. Evident as we traverse the bridges, as the rail tops now come to our hips' height whilst they're normally at chest level.
It's a bit tough going, given the circumstances, but we're truly happy to be out, and able to mount our usual circuit. Button, with her longer legs, is sprightly and delighted, taking odd little rushes back and forth. Riley, as is his habit, plods stodgily along; very little activates his interest to the extent that he'll pick up considerable speed. We extend our circuit, wanting to be out there for as long as possible.
Environment Canada's climatologists have already issued a storm warning for this evening, over into tomorrow and beyond. More, much, much more, on the way.
Yesterday we had to scramble over mounds of piled-up snow to access the trailhead to the ravine. There to discover that no one had yet broken trail, though it was by then mid-afternoon. A lovely day it was, with mild temperatures, just under the freezing mark, and the sun peeking out from scudding clouds time and again. We carried our little dogs, meaning to deposit them once we accessed the trails.
Every step we took sunk a foot deep into the new snow. Not possible to set them down; the snow would completely engulf them. We descended the first long hill into the ravine nonetheless, thinking the main trails would have been traversed, surely. But no, they had not. And clearly, progress was not possible for us and there would be no point for us to struggle onward any further, since we would be unable to have Button and Riley take their ravine walk as usual.
Today, though, it was a different story. Milder yet even than yesterday, but overcast. Not even a hint of wind. Once we surmounted the initial obstacles we could see that there had been others out, besides ourselves in our failed attempt of yesterday. And, gaining the top of the first hill, there was a decidedly cleared, albeit extremely narrow trail. We deposited our little dogs and away we all went. Crows flew overhead, cawing coarsely.
A cardinal sang as we proceeded, from somewhere close by. Chickadees were happily engaged in flitting about the trees, still laden, albeit lightly, from the previous day's snowfall. Wind and warm weather allied with the sun to melt much of the snow from deciduous branches, though it clung yet to evergreens. A wonderfully bright landscape, undulating and softly white, that my camera captured here and there as we proceeded.
Footing was a bit of a problem, since the trail hadn't been flattened, merely pocked here and there by earlier treading trail walkers. Walk too close to the edge of the trail and you're stuck, deeply, in a clasping embrace that can suck your boot off your foot. We're conscious of walking at a height we're not accustomed to. Evident as we traverse the bridges, as the rail tops now come to our hips' height whilst they're normally at chest level.
It's a bit tough going, given the circumstances, but we're truly happy to be out, and able to mount our usual circuit. Button, with her longer legs, is sprightly and delighted, taking odd little rushes back and forth. Riley, as is his habit, plods stodgily along; very little activates his interest to the extent that he'll pick up considerable speed. We extend our circuit, wanting to be out there for as long as possible.
Environment Canada's climatologists have already issued a storm warning for this evening, over into tomorrow and beyond. More, much, much more, on the way.
Labels: Environment, Perambulations
posted by Pieface @ 6:09 PM
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