The End

This is the last day of the year. It is mild out, around four degrees below zero, and snowing softly. We have made our pilgrimage to the camp site and eaten charred food cooked on an open fire. The woods are filling up with snow. It is winter. The wind, usually brisk, has held off for the last few days, so the trees are heavily laden. The temperature has been mild, so mild that yesterday the faint flurries felt like rain on our faces. A thin layer of ice clings to many surfaces, including the roads, so driving may be treacherous today, and we will be travelling from here to Fredericton to Bristol and back. The Centreville road is probably in bad shape, so it will be the highway for us. After many false starts, this looks like the genuine snow season; we have packed down a snowshoe trail, and I think some of this will be with us through April. Heighho.

Chilly

The temperature fell from -8.5°C at dawn to -9.5°C. The sun kissed the treetops; at this time of year there isn't enough snow to brighten the understory, so the chiaroscuro is pronounced. All dogs proceeded to enjoy themselves in their own way. On the way back, I was facing almost directly into the sun by the "tulip" tree. Overnight, we received several more inches of snow, and the morning was rather somber but very pretty, with all the trees re-iced again. The prediction is for a green Christmas day with temperatures reaching 10°C--we'll see! So far, the November snow has shown some staying power. A few more sunny days would have clearer the

The "Tulip Tree"

thin coating of snow completely, but it has been cloudy much of the time. It has also been damp, which has given the slight cold considerable punch--brrrrr.

The Iceman Cometh

The weekend was eerily bright and mild. On Sunday I panted about, dragging away most of the scaffolding and storing it in the tractor shed. I managed to patch the corner of the wall above the cellar entrance; I realize this has been on my list since we re-roofed the back of the house (nine years ago?). I put the Corolla away for the winter, and managed to squeeze in the chipper and lawn tractor as well. Then I closed up the doors of the sheds and workshop; there was a feeling of urgency about it all, as though this was the Last Day Before Winter. So it turned out; Monday's fall of slush continued through the night, and on Tuesday the world looked very different. Most of the schools are closed--but not the University. We could hear the rattle of hail on the windows and roofs all night long. In the morning, the gentle world of the weekend had been replaced by an icy, stormy wasteland.

Snowsome No More

Mild weather and rain have cleared away most of the snow. The day began with intermittent cloud that became heavy mid-morning. Toward noon the sun began to break through. The temperature climbed slowly to 6° C, and it may reach 8° C. Last year we performed the "Living Nativity" in utter cold, just as we had the year before when the donkey tried to trample the little angels. The area under the red pines is often clear, but as you can see, the whole yard and the fields to the SE are free of even a hint of snow. This is a thoroughly green Dec. 12--very much like last year's weather, with several false starts and very
green periods well into the fall.  I prefer this to the sudden onset of winter, without hope of remission until the spring. This is gradual: a slow descent that gives us plenty of time to prepare and adjust. I took advantage of the warm morning to clean both the pellet and wood stoves. I suppose I should really have swept the chimney as well--perhaps tomorrow. We took the dogs back to the campsite; Valla went very well today and kept up with us. The trail was very wet, but the only snow was in the shaded areas far back in the dense woods.  Out in the open fields and clearings, everything is green. Even the grass looks alive--as though it might need cutting soon. However, the seasonal decline looms ahead: tomorrow's high will be 3° C, and the rest of the week will waver around zero. We might have snow on Thursday.  Still, even if the rest of the winter is unusually cold and snowy, we have had a good start. When the real snow season begins, it will do so from a bare canvas. This is so much more encouraging than having Hallowe'en snow all the way through to April!

The Moral Woodlot: The Politics of Snow Load

It is a beautiful mild day; the sky is again that stunning blue that one sees only in winter. The woods were very wet and quite dark, but the treetops were bathed in sun. In contrast, the understory had to bear not only the weight of the original snowfall, but all the snow that had been shed by the upper layer of the forest, so the stems least capable of it had to carry the greatest load. There's a moral or political lesson here.

A surprising number of slender hardwoods were bent over, though they had no leaves to carry the snow. The low sun shot shafts of light through every break in the canopy--very pretty. Everywhere the sun's rays reached, the snow was melting, so there was a constant glitter as the droplets fell through shadow and light. Below you can see the result: the tall, strong trees, hogging the sun, refuse to carry their fair share of ice and snow, forcing their underlings to do their work. . . .