Tag Archive 'late winter'

Mar 21 2023

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Not Quite Spring

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I was wrong. I thought the mildness of winter this year would lead to an early spring, but that hasn’t been the case. Here it is the Spring Equinox and there’s still a blanket of snow on the ground, along with temps barely above freezing at midday.

Desperate to get out of the house, I go for a walk anyway. Judy suggests that I walk the access road to Mac’s Bend in the Missisquoi National Wildlife Refuge. It’s not far away. It gets plowed and will probably be clear of snow. She’s right. I leave my car in the parking lot just off Route 7 and walk the gravel track, leaving boot prints in the fine crushed stone between puddles of meltwater. This will have to do.

Binoculars dangle from a strap around my neck, but no birds appear. That too is wishful thinking. Naked trees creak in the light breeze. The brown heads of ferns poke above the snow, ready to reproduce as soon as the weather breaks. A bright vernal sun plays peekaboo in a partly cloudy sky, teasing me with its warmth. I tramp down the road, happy enough to be stretching my legs and getting some fresh air. Still I long for the arrival of spring – promised but not yet delivered.

There are long open seams of water in the Missisquoi River that the road hugs, but Mac’s Bend is completely iced over for some reason. When the road ends there, I tramp a partly thawed riverside trail until it veers into the snowy woods. Then I turn around. I reach down to feel the cold mud underfoot, genuflecting to seasonal change, telling myself that it won’t be long now. But it’s not quite spring.

I know the heaviness of winter within me will eventually melt away, along with the snow, and the winged migrators will ultimately return from the south. But that isn’t happening yet. So I go back home, back indoors, back to work for a while longer. Patience, patience. The cardinals, robins and other songbirds will be calling me out soon enough.

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Feb 24 2021

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Cutting Tracks in Deep Snow

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Late winter. I tramp the hard-packed trail leading into Honey Hollow wearing crampons until they clog up with snow. Then I take them off. Easier walking without them. With temps above freezing, it’s a pleasant hike in shirtsleeves and thermals. The sun peeks through the clouds as I pass the gorge.

Upon reaching a gate blocking the side trail, I affix snowshoes to my boots. From this point forward, the hike gets harder. I follow the snowshoe tracks of someone else who came this way a week or two ago – after the last big snowstorm. This takes some doing but it’s easier than breaking trail.

The older tracks go beyond the apple tree clearing. They turn around shortly after crossing a feeder stream tumbling down to Preston Brook. Then I’m on my own, cutting tracks in two feet of undisturbed snow. I work up a sweat in no time. I stop frequently to catch my breath. While doing so, I catch glimpses of open leads of water in the brook fifty yards to my left. That gets me thinking spring isn’t too far away.

It takes the better part of an hour to break half a mile of trail. Then I reach the tree along the brook where I pressed a fishing fly into bark last summer. That makes me smile. Not too far beyond that tree, I tamp down a spot to rollout my foam pad. Then I sit down for a while. It’s a lovely day in the snow-covered mountains. I eat a handful of nuts and an energy bar, and drink nearly a liter of water while listening to the deep forest quiet. The brook murmurs beneath the snowpack.

After lunch I retrace my steps, improving the trail I’ve cut. I had intended to do a loop, but backtracking is a lot easier than cutting tracks. I stop frequently just to look around, grooving on the wild beauty of the Green Mountains in winter. So glad I came out for the day.

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Feb 23 2020

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Late Winter Snowshoeing

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After thinking about it for days, I finally dig out my snowshoes and head for a nearby snow-covered forest – the Sheldon Town Forest to be exact. Here in northern Vermont, we’re into freeze-and-thaw temps now so there’s no time to waste. Odds are good that March will give us at least one good dump of fresh snow, but it could melt off quickly. Best to get outside with my snowshoes while I still can.

Yessir, my trusty Green Mountain Bear Paws. All leather and wood. I’ve had them over 25 years and have repaired them four times. Looks like another repair is just about due. No matter. I wouldn’t want to have anything else strapped to my boots when I get into deep snow. They’re three feet long and ten inches wide. They keep me on top of it for the most part.

It’s been two weeks since the last big snowfall so most of what’s on the ground now is compact. Still snowshoes are needed to negotiate it without post-holing. I follow a set of ski tracks passing through the conifers, slightly widening a path that others have made. No cutting tracks today. That’s fine by me.

Recent strong winds have shaken a lot of detritus loose from the trees. In a couple places I skirt fallen branches and downed trees. But travel across the snow isn’t difficult. I break a sweat and breathe heavily all the same. It’s a workout. With temps in the 30s I feel overdressed with only a thermal shirt, a wool shirt and an outer shell.

When the perimeter trail I’m following passes out of the conifers and into some hardwoods, I spot 4-wheeler along with a fellow tending to maple syrup lines. It’s that time of year. With day temps getting into the 40s this coming week, the sap will start running, no doubt. That gets me daydreaming about spring. Yeah, I’m ready for it. I’m more than ready. Snowshoeing is good, but I much prefer tramping across open ground. Soon, very soon.

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Mar 28 2019

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Between Winter and Spring

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Yesterday I went for a hike despite the foot of snow dumped by last weekend’s storm. I’m sick of winter, but with the sun shining through an azure sky and temps in the 40s by afternoon, I simply had to go out.

I went to Milton Pond, assuming that the trail around it had been packed down by other restless souls. That was, if fact, the case. All the same, it’s a good thing I had Microspikes on my boots. The trail was icy in places and the snow punky in other places. Without the ‘spikes, I would have done a lot of sliding around.

I hiked at a good clip, soon breaking a sweat. I was smart enough to leave my sweater in the car, but had to strip off my jacket halfway around the pond and carry it. It’s always a strange feeling being in shirtsleeves while traveling over snow. That’s the smart thing to do sometimes, between winter and spring. Still it felt strange…

Looked like winter but felt like spring. The pond was iced over, of course, and there was snow everywhere. Yet a springtime sun shined brightly, meltwater ran fast through runoff streams, and the buds on maple trees were swollen. Definitely between seasons.

I thought about my recently deceased dog Matika during the hike, and how she would have enjoyed the outing a couple years ago, back when she could handle it. We enjoyed a lot of good hikes together through the years. But when I saw a yellow spot along the side of the trail, I was glad I didn’t have to stop and wait for her to sniff it. Slowly adjusting to hiking alone again. There are certain advantages to it, no doubt.

 

 

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Mar 15 2018

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Snow Day

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With a foot of wet, heavy snow on the ground and nowhere I had to be, I decided to stay home today. Judy’s car made it out of the driveway this morning, and my car could have done the same, but why bother? Any book orders that needed to go out could wait another day. So I declared it a snow day.

It’s good to stay out of the car every once in a while, no matter how important it is to one’s livelihood. I can’t speak for anyone else, but I drive too much. And all that motorized movement isn’t good for my well being.

I’ve stayed indoors for the most part today, reading and writing. Went outside to shovel snow for a while. Didn’t venture any farther away from the house than my mailbox, and that’s a good thing. My dog Matika would have gone for a longer walk, but I was in no mood to strap on my snowshoes. As anyone who’s done it knows, breaking trail through wet, heavy snow is hard slogging. Better at this point to wait for bare ground. That’s not far away.

The maple sap is still dripping into buckets despite the wintry look to the landscape. And songbirds are chirping excitedly nearby. I don’t need a calendar to tell me how close we are to the Vernal Equinox. The length of the day says it all. Spring is right around the corner. Oh sure, there are still a couple more snowstorms in our future here in northern Vermont, but winter’s back is broken. Soon, very soon, I’ll be tramping through cold mud while it’s raining – the world all brown and stern looking. I can’t wait.

 

 

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Mar 19 2017

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Last Day of Winter

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A nor’easter dumped two and a half feet of snow earlier this week. That’s a lot of snow even by Vermont standards. Aside from shoveling the white stuff, I’ve stayed indoors for the most part ignoring it. The bright March sun has already melted off half the snow. I figured I’d just wait out the rest. But my dog Matika kept bugging me so out we went today, tramping in the snow one last time.

Right out the back door, I strapped on snowshoes and cut tracks into the woods. I was sweating in no time. With temps pushing up towards 40 degrees and an unblinking sun overhead, I lifted several pounds of heavy wet snow with each step. Not a cloud in the sky, though, and the pristine snow looked inviting. I was almost as happy to be outdoors as Matika was.

Not far from the house, we flushed several deer from the woods. Matika got on their tracks right away. I followed them for a while. Then we reached the quarry where someone else has been out snowshoeing. Yeah, it’s hard to stay inside this time of year, no matter how good the books and movies are.

We didn’t go far. I stomped out a small loop near the quarry then headed back to the house. A half hour of that was enough. Truth is, I’m already thinking spring. The vernal equinox is tomorrow and the first unmistakable signs of spring aren’t far away. Hmm… technically speaking, tomorrow’s equinox makes today the last day of winter. Snowshoeing was a good way to send it off.

 

 

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Feb 16 2015

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Late Winter Daydream

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spring bushwhackI’ve put off thinking about it as long as possible, but now the prospect of a leisurely ramble through a lush green forest strikes with irresistible force. There’s something about the strength of the February sun that sets up this daydream. The jet stream remains well south of here and subzero temps persist as they rarely have in years past, but the wild man in me responds to bright sunlight all the same.

On some level I know this deep freeze can’t last. When it breaks I’ll be hiking across cold mud. Then the verdure will come out, slowly but surely. It’s inevitable.

Funny how we get used to the white landscape, to the frost nipping at our cheeks, chapped hands and lips, and that dull ache in the lower back from shoveling snow. Though I wouldn’t call it warm, temps in the teens seem normal to me now. And I’ve grown accustomed to being indoors most of the time. All the same, I catch myself dreaming of spring at least once each day. My favorite season is only a month or so away.

Don’t get me wrong. I know exactly what time of year it is and how long winter lasts here in the North Country. I’m keeping my snowshoes handy. I’m doing my best to live in the present. Still this longing for the green forest can’t be brushed aside. I’m a vernal creature at heart.

 

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