During these winter months Irving puts out peanuts and bread cubes several times a day at our side door stoop. Squirrels and crows and other wildlife come along and help themselves. Last night when he was preparing to put out the last batch, he hesitated before opening the door because he saw the dim figure of a little tawny rabbit sitting in front of the steps. He called me over and we looked at the little creature just resting there, and both of us wondered how such a small animal could fare during these harsh winter conditions. He's a little visitor we've become familiar with over past winters.
We knew a major storm was on its way, predicted to begin overnight and leave a sizeable amount of snow. And that's just what occurred. When that happens Irving often gets out of bed early and shovels the deck, stairs and a narrow passageway in the backyard for Jackie and Jillie, then gets back in bed to snooze until we finally both wake. I didn't hear him get up, get dressed and go downstairs. I had prepared myself in my mind to get dressed and do some early basic shovelling for the same reason, but he beat me to it.
About a foot of snow had fallen overnight, the result was an uneven, swooping snowpack because the storm had been accompanied by high winds. I thought we wouldn't be able to get out to the ravine with Jackie and Jillie because of the amount of snow down, but Irving insisted we get out and take our time stomping through the snow. Decades ago we'd be the only ones going out after a snowstorm and we'd have to break trail. Ever since COVID, people in the larger community began to appreciate the ravine and forest, and now people come out regularly through the trails.
So we no longer break trail, and are grateful that others do that. We could see that some skiiers had come in early to take advantage of the thick powder. At one time it was snowshoes that were popular. We've never worn snowshoes in the ravine, although years ago we used them regularly in Gatineau Park, the semi-wilderness area in Quebec we so loved when the children were young.
Jackie and Jillie found it more difficult making their way up the street to the ravine entrance than right in the forest on the trails. The street hadn't been plowed by the time we got out and it was awkward navigating the deep runnels made by passing traffic. The temperature hovered at freezing, so when we were out that meant there was a slight moisture to the snow. Which made our passage through the trails even more difficult, since with every step our cleated boots picked up great clots of packed snow.
Any time we have a snowfall of this magnitude, particularly after an earlier snowfall of some significance, the landscape is a picture of evanescent beauty, frostily ethereal. And so it was today. Although trudging through the depth of snow felt like walking through quicksand, and it was tiring. Jackie and Jillie revelled in it,though they had a practical eye out for avoiding untramped snow in favour of following earlier tracks.
When we returned home, we both went out to begin shovelling. First Irving took his telescopic roof rake to the light metal canopy over the deck, to relieve it of most of the burden of accumulated snow as a safeguard against a collapse. And then I did the areas that needed hand shovelling, while Irving took out the snow thrower and set about clearing the walkways in the backyard and at the front of the house. Exhausting work.
The wind had returned and made the temperature seem colder so when we were finished, on came the fireplace. The vegetable soup I put on to cook will be warming and appreciated when we have dinner. I baked a batch of whole-wheat cheese and sesame seed rolls to accompany the soup, a nutritious, comforting meal for a winter's evening.
