The bridges in the Bilberry Creek ravine forest are groaning under the weight of accumulated snow. Which is to say I imagine them groaning, they haven't yet actually communicated their agony of discomfort. Normally, with these bridges, built a year and a half ago, following on the gradual decay of those that preceded them (in our time trekking through the ravine, we've seen a succession of no fewer than four replacement bridges; these are the stoutest), the top rail is around shoulder-height for me. Now, they're at hip-height, and that's a considerable difference.

The trail proceeds through the middle of the bridges; the sides are piled much higher. Still, in the interests of full disclosure I can recall one winter when the bridges were piled so high with the season's snowpack that we were traversing them at a height equal to the top rail, and that was an extremely strange, vulnerable-provoking sensation.

Now, however, we've turned into a spate of much milder weather, and the snow is beginning to melt. It can be heard melting off our roof and down the rainspouts. This mild weather is supposed to stick around for at least several days, so the melt, by the time it's finished, may be substantial. Although at ground level the cold radiating upward will likely keep the forest trails from subsiding into a slushy mess at this early stage, it would be different if the sun's warmth could reach those trails, rather than be filtered through the tree canopy.

In the meantime, the ravine and its forest remain beautiful, lathered deep in snow, for our full appreciation of the spectacle we're exposed to. Not only we, to be sure, for yesterday on our woodland ramble, we came across far more ravine trekkers than we normally see, and everyone was happy to be out, people and dogs alike.