Feb 24 2011
February Sun
The bright February sun burns through a cloudless sky as I don a pair of Yaktrax and start hiking around Indian Brook Reservoir. The last time I was here, a couple weeks ago, I needed snowshoes to negotiate the deep powder. Now it’s a different story. Now the trail is hard-packed snow, covered with ice in places. Traction is what is needed today, and traction is what the rubber-and-steel-coil contraptions that I’ve slipped onto my boots provide.
When I let my dog out to pee this morning, a blast of single-digit air greeted me. But the February sun has been burning bright since then, so now the temps are in the high twenties. When I’m standing in the open, it feels much warmer. I welcome the change.
The day is relatively long in late February – a few minutes shy of eleven hours at these latitudes. Gone are the short days of December and its distant, indifferent sun. Now the dazzling yellow orb overhead is both forceful and inviting. A few hours of it on a day like this and snow piles whither. At least half of the snow covering the ground has melted away already, and in a few places here and there the ground actually shows itself. Surely the sap of maple trees is starting to flow. One doesn’t need to be a syrup producer to sense that.
My dog Matika is busy sniffing. There are fresh tracks everywhere, crisscrossing the trail. Many of the smaller woodland creatures are scurrying about now, looking for food to get them through the rest of winter. There are more dog and people tracks, as well. Yeah, everyone is restless.
Beneath a stand of mature hemlocks, I pluck small, half-buried cones from the snow. I gather up a dozen and squirrel them away in a side pocket of my jacket. When I get home, I’ll pile the cones on my desk where the indoor heat will open them. And there they will stay until the first real signs of spring appear. This little ritual keeps me going this time of year, when ice clings stubbornly to roof edges and snow is still everywhere. I am heartened by the tiny cones, and the bright light that’s slowly melting away these last few cold, winter days. It won’t be long now.
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