Snow, And Even More Snow
It's been a banner year for snow. We started in November with colder than normal temperatures and plenty of snowstorms, and haven't looked back since, in a manner of speaking. Oh right; there was a hiatus in early January when the usual January thaw kicked in and huge mounds of snow embarked on a quick-melt, leaving the snowpack compressed and woefully murky looking, but that's a dim memory.
Since then, the cold returned, as did the wind, and with both those elements, snow, and plenty of it. Often; remorselessly frequently. Nice for those of us who appreciate the pristine beauty of newfallen snow on cedars. And pine. And fir. And spruce, yew and junipers and hemlock. There is nothing quite like the faerie landscape of a frigid winter day, sun shining brightly through the branches of a pine laden heavily with snow.
Speaking of which, those self-same pine branches, so heavily laden, are brought down to levels not customary for them; the sheer weight of the snow causing them to bow over the trail. Impeding our progress, lest, thrusting ourselves underneath we invite a fall of snow upon our heads, our shoulders, our little dogs. A quick push of a ski pole does the trick, loosing the snow from overladen branches to fall below, while the newly-released branch itself, now freed of its weight, springs back to height.
Loping along a snow-deep trail and wherever your gaze takes you, abundant vistas of trees, both evergreen and deciduous, winter-draped gracefully in fresh-fallen snow, startling in their frozen loveliness. And when the sun is hidden, as it was today - a lowering pewter ceiling from which continually fell clusters of flakes in the kind of slow-motion snowfall seen in snow-globes - the picture is complete and indescribably wonderful.
It snowed overnight, all night. Leaving about ten cm of snow on top of what we already have accumulated. Accumulations so deep that when we walk along the ravine trails we're standing several feet in elevation as compared to the terrain free of snow mass. And the new snow, falling all about us on that which had already accumulated throughout the night, presents as entrancingly bright, fluffy, and a struggle to traverse.
Our pace is glacial, fitting to the landscape, as we slowly make our way uphill through one ascent after another, in the ravine. Riley, our toy poodle, while game, is really having a hard time of it. The temperature now mild enough that they don't need their boots, at minus-4 C., yet deep enough that despite our having tamped the snow slightly walking before them, he must practically swim through its depths, to proceed.
Button, our miniature poodle, is capable of putting out a greater energy expenditure, as do we, and her long legs take her handily through the deep fluffy snow. Their little faux sheepskin jackets have acquired a soft fluffy burr of snow as we proceed. As have ours. Fortunately, no wind to speak of this day, unlike the previous few days, with far colder temperatures, exacerbated by a stiff wind. It's so still out there; not the remotest sound other than those we quietly impose on the landscape.
Thus far this winter we've experienced about 311 cm of snow, not including last night's. We're told than the month of March normally accounts for about 22% of the total snowfall received annually in the Ottawa Valley. That's a whole lot of snow for this year. The record is still held by the winter of 1070-71, however, when the total plugged in at 368 cm.
Seems as though we're getting there, however.
Since then, the cold returned, as did the wind, and with both those elements, snow, and plenty of it. Often; remorselessly frequently. Nice for those of us who appreciate the pristine beauty of newfallen snow on cedars. And pine. And fir. And spruce, yew and junipers and hemlock. There is nothing quite like the faerie landscape of a frigid winter day, sun shining brightly through the branches of a pine laden heavily with snow.
Speaking of which, those self-same pine branches, so heavily laden, are brought down to levels not customary for them; the sheer weight of the snow causing them to bow over the trail. Impeding our progress, lest, thrusting ourselves underneath we invite a fall of snow upon our heads, our shoulders, our little dogs. A quick push of a ski pole does the trick, loosing the snow from overladen branches to fall below, while the newly-released branch itself, now freed of its weight, springs back to height.
Loping along a snow-deep trail and wherever your gaze takes you, abundant vistas of trees, both evergreen and deciduous, winter-draped gracefully in fresh-fallen snow, startling in their frozen loveliness. And when the sun is hidden, as it was today - a lowering pewter ceiling from which continually fell clusters of flakes in the kind of slow-motion snowfall seen in snow-globes - the picture is complete and indescribably wonderful.
It snowed overnight, all night. Leaving about ten cm of snow on top of what we already have accumulated. Accumulations so deep that when we walk along the ravine trails we're standing several feet in elevation as compared to the terrain free of snow mass. And the new snow, falling all about us on that which had already accumulated throughout the night, presents as entrancingly bright, fluffy, and a struggle to traverse.
Our pace is glacial, fitting to the landscape, as we slowly make our way uphill through one ascent after another, in the ravine. Riley, our toy poodle, while game, is really having a hard time of it. The temperature now mild enough that they don't need their boots, at minus-4 C., yet deep enough that despite our having tamped the snow slightly walking before them, he must practically swim through its depths, to proceed.
Button, our miniature poodle, is capable of putting out a greater energy expenditure, as do we, and her long legs take her handily through the deep fluffy snow. Their little faux sheepskin jackets have acquired a soft fluffy burr of snow as we proceed. As have ours. Fortunately, no wind to speak of this day, unlike the previous few days, with far colder temperatures, exacerbated by a stiff wind. It's so still out there; not the remotest sound other than those we quietly impose on the landscape.
Thus far this winter we've experienced about 311 cm of snow, not including last night's. We're told than the month of March normally accounts for about 22% of the total snowfall received annually in the Ottawa Valley. That's a whole lot of snow for this year. The record is still held by the winter of 1070-71, however, when the total plugged in at 368 cm.
Seems as though we're getting there, however.
Labels: Environment, Perambulations
posted by Pieface @ 11:30 AM
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