We spent a couple of weeks in the land where wind and snow rule. Except for when the ice starts to break up along the shore and the tide starts to swell again.
The kitchen window was covered to the top with snow when we arrived and R dug it out, only to have to dig it out again two days later.
We had wind gusting up to 75k/hr, we had one whole day of no wind to disturb the snow falling on the trees, we had magnificent sunsets.
In the woods we snowshoed across moose tracks so deep that we couldn't see the bottom of their steps. How long their legs must be!
I tripped on my snowshoe, fell forward with my pole jabbed up to my wrist in snow, and as I pushed to get up, the pole dug deeper.
There were chickadees and crows and one robin feeding on a bush of winter-shrivelled berries. There were songbirds trilling about spring that was supposed to be coming if you looked at the light in the sky. There were a lot of last year's nests covered in snow. This one was so small that even heaped with snow it would have fit in my palm.
We snowshoed a lot.
Every day?
Every day. In the woods when it was windy, along the shore when it wasn't too windy.