Winter, Too Early
Days of heavy rain preceding last night's snow storm ensured that the sodden, not-yet frozen landscape would melt the snow. The hills, however, still held fast their early burden of snow. As did the trees, enclosing the ravine trails. Every limb, branch and twig heavily accented with snow limning and lowering them under the heavily overcast sky.
The wind, chugging through the trees, frees small icy clumps of snow, and they fall heavily to the ground. Some fall closely about us as we tread downward into the ravine, and they ping musically as they hit our hooded heads. Ping painfully, those few that hit our gloved hands.
It's far too early for a snow storm, even here in the Ottawa Valley. We're not yet free of October, haven't ventured into November. We're accustomed to having light snowfalls around mid-November, but at this time of year we should still be enjoying daytime highs of 14 degrees Celsius, not the minus-2 we've got this day.
This storm brewed off the U.S. Eastern Seaboard with a full day's worth of high winds rattling the city before the rain that has lashed us intermittently for the past week turned to wet snow overnight as the temperature steadily dipped below freezing.
All night long we heard the roaring wind, furiously driving the snow before it. We could cock a sleepy eye toward the bedroom windows, and see them brightly lit by falling snow, that apricot brightness in the atmosphere associated with night-time snowfalls.
When we ventured out for our walk suitably garbed against the wind that whipped against our faces with fierce iciness, we found relief once in the ravine. There, the wind wreaked its frantic lashing on tree tops. Our little dogs re-acquainted themselves with the new odours accompanying the almost-forgotten snow of other years.
Quite a sight; left and right of the trail, a criss-crossing of deciduous branches, limbs, twigs, laden with fresh snow. The conifers looking regal and icily beautiful. The landscape transformed utterly, to a glistening, magical wonderland.
The trails and the forest floor generously littered with broken boughs, long dead or lively but broken evergreen branches. Detritus captured the scene below, white glory the scene above. The wild wind taking credit for the ethereal transformation.
A knee-high Maple sapling, still proudly holding fast to its crimson leaves offers a flamboyant blast of colour. The bright orange berries of American bittersweet, twined about bushes, another.
Deeper in the forest interior some trees have snapped, fallen. On the trail we crouch to slip under a fallen tree trunk. The wind is hoarse with the fury of its passage through docile trees willingly tossing themselves to the rhythm of the insistent goad.
The creek runs full-thrust, bloated from the days of steady rain, the melting snow. A temporary dam of downstream-hurtling logs has been breached, the water rushing impetuously onward, carrying bits of canopy-loosed detritus.
And just incidentally, power out in 40,000 homes in Eastern Ontario; another 30,000 homes in Western Quebec.
The wind, chugging through the trees, frees small icy clumps of snow, and they fall heavily to the ground. Some fall closely about us as we tread downward into the ravine, and they ping musically as they hit our hooded heads. Ping painfully, those few that hit our gloved hands.
It's far too early for a snow storm, even here in the Ottawa Valley. We're not yet free of October, haven't ventured into November. We're accustomed to having light snowfalls around mid-November, but at this time of year we should still be enjoying daytime highs of 14 degrees Celsius, not the minus-2 we've got this day.
This storm brewed off the U.S. Eastern Seaboard with a full day's worth of high winds rattling the city before the rain that has lashed us intermittently for the past week turned to wet snow overnight as the temperature steadily dipped below freezing.
All night long we heard the roaring wind, furiously driving the snow before it. We could cock a sleepy eye toward the bedroom windows, and see them brightly lit by falling snow, that apricot brightness in the atmosphere associated with night-time snowfalls.
When we ventured out for our walk suitably garbed against the wind that whipped against our faces with fierce iciness, we found relief once in the ravine. There, the wind wreaked its frantic lashing on tree tops. Our little dogs re-acquainted themselves with the new odours accompanying the almost-forgotten snow of other years.
Quite a sight; left and right of the trail, a criss-crossing of deciduous branches, limbs, twigs, laden with fresh snow. The conifers looking regal and icily beautiful. The landscape transformed utterly, to a glistening, magical wonderland.
The trails and the forest floor generously littered with broken boughs, long dead or lively but broken evergreen branches. Detritus captured the scene below, white glory the scene above. The wild wind taking credit for the ethereal transformation.
A knee-high Maple sapling, still proudly holding fast to its crimson leaves offers a flamboyant blast of colour. The bright orange berries of American bittersweet, twined about bushes, another.
Deeper in the forest interior some trees have snapped, fallen. On the trail we crouch to slip under a fallen tree trunk. The wind is hoarse with the fury of its passage through docile trees willingly tossing themselves to the rhythm of the insistent goad.
The creek runs full-thrust, bloated from the days of steady rain, the melting snow. A temporary dam of downstream-hurtling logs has been breached, the water rushing impetuously onward, carrying bits of canopy-loosed detritus.
And just incidentally, power out in 40,000 homes in Eastern Ontario; another 30,000 homes in Western Quebec.
Labels: Environment, Nature
posted by Pieface @ 5:44 PM
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