The Wind Today

As predicted, we had snow overnight. Not much, just a trifle above a sprinkling. Yet enough on the ground to necessitate that conscientious home-owners get out the snow shovels and clear the driveway, the walkways - front (for the newspaper delivery) and back (for the dogs' convenience), the porch, the walk at the side, the deck. Wind's up. There's a severe wind warning and precautionary advice on the radio for frostbite avoidance. Echoing the situation of the last week or so. Day-time temperatures continue above what is considered normal or average for this time of winter.

The wind, unsurprisingly, has done its best to fill the porch in with snow again, sweeping it up from the freshly-shovelled piles either side of the walk. There are wide swaths of new snow in-fill in the driveway where it has so recently been shovelled aside. I'm glad I remembered, today, to wear those wrap-around sunglasses. The sky is clear, the sun becoming stronger as we begin the long passage into spring and it hurts my unprotected eyes. Besides which, yesterday when I was without them I had no protection from the wind and my eyes began tearing, wet drops slowly sliding down my frozen cheeks to finally come to rest as icy droplets.

There's the long descent into the ravine and evidence that hardy souls have ventured there before us. The trails are not yet tamped down from the new snow but it won't take long. Before another snowfall overtakes the flatness of the trail. A nuthatch is nearby in a copse of firs, but no sound of chick-a-dees. The nuthatch entertains us briefly with his comedic calls until we begin the long clamber of the first ascent. To the left is a sapling, its spire hanging over the trail; impaled on its top is a half-finished hornets' nest.

Surprising that the persistent winds have had no effect on its stubborn perch. Surprising for that matter that none of those large sloppy squirrels' nests have yet come down. Surprising too, to see a few black squirrels out on this frigidly windy day. One of them looks pretty small for a black squirrel, boasts a tinge of auburn in the light of the sun. It reveals the cheeky demeanor of a black squirrel, yet the fluid fleet-of-footness of a red squirrel.

Up on the ridge where we're slightly more exposed despite the presence on both sides of the trail of a slowly descending forested hillside, the wind whips our faces. We tread on at a slightly faster pace, turning now and again to encourage Riley to come along a little quicker. Button is well ahead of us, as usual. We come across no other ravine walkers this day. Our usual hour-long walk in the ravine gives us ample opportunity to come across others, but regulars have their own time-frames.

The berries of the American bittersweet have turned orange and they've become wrinkled, fallen in on themselves, like raisins. The candles of the sumachs are no longer that beautiful bright red. They've faded, but they're still upright, and a few look as though they may have been nibbled. In this bright atmosphere with the snow underfoot reflecting the sun, the tiny patches of grey-blue lichen on the Hawthornes appear more prominent than usual; decorative.

There's a peaceful stillness in the atmosphere despite interruptions by the wind gusting through the trees at regular intervals. And then there's a zumfarzter high above thrumming the air as it makes its own trail from Rockcliffe Air Base to wherever it's headed. Its wings look insubstantial, like paper. There are red markings on the white of the body and wings, but we can't make them out. Wind sends sparkles of snow off the trees to dazzle our eyes as they drift about.

I'm having a good day. My chest hasn't constricted noticeably as I crest the ascents, although I'm aware of a familiar leaden feeling in my legs until I reach the plateau and can regain my breath and energy.