It was still snowing when we went up to bed last night. The landscape was a broad comforter of virginal-white snow. Shrubs and tree branches were weighted heavily, bowing with the pressure.  It was mild out, just at the freezing mark as it had been all day, and the snow was not dry and light, but dense and heavy. Irving was concerned about the sheet-metal top of the canopy over the deck. The manufacturer's instructions were that snow should not be allowed to accumulate over six inches in depth. At that point the height of the snow -- wet at that -- was twice the limit. 

We were tired and not prepared to do anything about the weight on the canopy as we trudged up to bed. At that point about 30 cm had come down. Another ten cm expected overnight for a total of 40 cm. Quite the snowstorm. In the morning Irving dressed early and went back out to clear the newfallen snow from the backyard walkways again. This time I got dressed too and did my share of the shovelling. And after breakfast out we went again to clear off the deck canopy.

 

 

Irving has a really neat, lightweight aluminum ladder that slides down to a fraction of its extended size; easy to store, easy to use, practical and efficient. He also has a 15-ft-reach roof rake that he uses to shove  snow off the canopy. It was still snowing, the temperature was still benign, the wind was light.

As the snow came thudding down off the canopy and onto the deck, I shovelled it off the deck onto the garden beds below. Heavy snow that had to be shovelled in layers.

 

I hate it when Irving goes up on a ladder, any ladder. So I hold onto the lower quartile of the ladder which though I know is fairly useless, makes me feel a bit better. Finally he decides the canopy has been satisfactorily cleared and down he comes. He sent me back indoors and he continued clearing away snow. I promptly went out to the front of the house while he was still out back and began shovelling the porch and the front walkways. The depth of the snow was amazing, but it seemed lighter in texture at the front than it was at the back of the house.

 

 

In the afternoon we hauled ourselves out once again, this time with Jackie and Jillie to get out for our afternoon hike through the ravine trails. Unlike years ago when after a storm it was left to us to break trail because so few people used the forest recreationally, now that they do, it was evident that many people had been out before us, the trails tamped down nicely. People pulling sleds made the trails good and even, so our tramp wasn't as arduous as it might have been otherwise.

 

The atmosphere was as close to perfect as possible. The snow was just finally tapering off, the temperature had risen to 1C, the wind was barely noticeable and the forest landscape was utterly enchanting. A total of 40 cm through the course of several days and nights completely muffles sound in the landscape and decorates it with a thick layer of frozen white fluff. Tree branches are bent low and you duck as you pass under. Touching one creates a waterfall of heavy snow.

The creek is open and running, itself the recipient of snow as well as some snow that might have melted given the temperature. The water is high and running wildly downstream surrounded by banks steeped deep in snow, trees bowing over. 

 

Only Gus, the Viszla, came by to visit; our timing synchronized. He suddenly appeared, having left his person far behind somewhere on another trail to tell us look, here's Gus, flamboyant in his new orange winter coat,  and he's waiting for cookies! We took note, welcomed him, provided said cookies and off he sped, back from where  he'd come. Evie came along too, to tell us how glad she was to see us. Jackie and Jillie appreciate her eating style; she crunches those large cookies in her big jaw and pieces fall to the ground where Jackie and Jillie pounce on them. Evie doesn't mind; far as she's concerned, finders-keepers.

 

 

By the time we finish our circuit, cross the last bridge, ascend our weary but exhiliarating way back up the last hill to street level dusk has entered, though even so it's only marginally darker than it has been for most of the day under snow-packed clouds. The street lights come on as we exit the ravine, and as we walk down t he street to our house and look up at the sky a narrow band of clearing sky can be seen, though the sun has already set beyond the horizon.