This morning I was shocked to find three quarters of an inch of snow covering the ground when I opened the door to let Rudy out to go to the bathroom; involuntarily I exclaimed, “What the hell is that?”
When I'd gotten out from under the covers less than a minute earlier it was only chilly in my house, but with snow on the ground and more still falling it suddenly felt frigid. Any thoughts of going to the bathroom myself or eating some breakfast were put on the back burner as I hurriedly grabbed some oak splits and kindling to get a fire going. I glanced at the dry wood stacked behind the house and wondered if I split to get me through the winter.
Before I even had the fire lit Rudy was whining at the door to come back in but I ignored him a couple more minutes until the newspaper was burning and the kindling was starting to catch. With the fire under control I turned my attention back to my dog, my breakfast, putting on some warm clothes, and mumbling to myself about the weather.
By the time those were finished the house was starting to warm up nicely and I was quite content to stand in front of the wood stove looking out into the backyard. I'd gotten over my hateful knee jerk reaction to the first snow of the year and was now at peace with it, sorta. Rudy was laying at my feet soaking up the same radiant heat and taking his morning nap that comes just after his morning meal. The nuthatches and chickadees were constantly flitting from the feeder up into the cottonwood to break open their seeds and the juncos and sparrows were hopping around on the ground rooting through the snow for buried seeds. Among the House sparrows was a lone Harris's sparrow, the first I'd seen here since I moved in. He was bigger than the rest and was actively throwing his weight around, not afraid to grab a beak full of feathers if another bird got too close. Farther back in the yard, shoulders shrugged and heads buried in their chests, was a flock of robins sitting in the row of aspen trees. All of them I'm sure grumbling about staying an extra week to enjoy the indian summer and now being stuck with this.
A single squirrel, also the first I've seen here, suddenly came into view, jumping through the snow and stopping at the base of each tree where he'd climb up a foot, look around for trouble, and then bound off to the next tree in line where he'd repeat the procedure. He kept this up until he reached the neighbors yard where I lost sight of him, I have no idea where he was going but he seemed to. I wouldn't be surprised to see him back soon as he seemed to be eyeing the bird feeders as he was passing through.
It took me a long time to finally pull myself away from the windows and the stove but eventually I managed to. It had stopped snowing at this point and most of the birds had cleared out after their breakfast. Rudy and I wasted away the rest of the morning running small errands before returning home for lunch. With nothing to look ahead to the rest of the day I knew if I stayed inside Rudy would drive me crazy tonight so I started to get bundled up for a walk. I figured it would be a great day to test the waterproofness of my boots that I'd just had warranted, the old ones leaked when new, and a good way to start working my way into the weather that will be following for the next 4 or 5 months. As I walked out the door I grabbed my camera and threw on my orange jacket to hopefully avoid being shot at.
By now it had begun to snow off and on again with some drizzle mixed in for good measure. It was a bit brisk at first but after just a little walking it was comfortable and I was happy to find that my new boots were keeping my feet nice and dry. We started off walking through a low area with cattails and willows behind the house where we scared up a doe that was bedding down; then into a small pine grove that will give some nice protection from the wind and plenty of dead wood this winter when I feel like having a little fire outside. Just a short ways past that we found ourselves at the shoreline of a nice big gravel pit with a half dozen ducks paddling around.
Approaching the waters edge I heard a noise and saw a small ripple in some submerged willows just off the shoreline. Figuring it was too late in the year for fish to be up that shallow and that the frogs and turtles would be tucked away at the bottom of the pond it must have been a muskrat. I little more looking found a small muskrat hut (this one was more like a muskrat hovel) and just a couple feet away a small, slick furred log with a tail floating on the surface. It slid under the surface when I made my next step but seemed to follow me down the shoreline as I briefly saw it a few times straight out from me as I walked along.
We reached the other end of the gravel pit and less than a hundred yards past that lay the river. The wind was starting to pick up now so we walked along the river a short ways until we reached some moderate protection from a small stand of trees and started heading back toward the house. Just as we were turning away from the gravel pit I turned for one last look across it and saw a bald eagle soaring low in the sky, following the river.
In most respects this is an ugly time of year. The weather would best be described as “raw”, the trees are all bare, and everything is either brown or gray. But for some reason there's something beautiful about it. The water is clear, the air is crisp, and everything is still. Nothing's growing, not much is moving, and things are quiet as both plants and animals make their final preparations for winter. No worries about finding a mate, building a nest, raising young, flowering, finding a pollinator, and spreading seeds. It's either fly away, go dormant, or try to scrape out a living until spring, worrying about nothing but yourself.
At this point in the year there's nothing else that can be done except to sit and wait for what's coming; it's the calm before the storm and it carries an uneasy peacefulness with it.
A few shots from the walk here-
http://flickr.com/photos/7935459@N05/sets/72157608746709649/Alan
