Turning the corner

For the first time this winter, the constant stream of storms has abated.  A few days of above freezing weather first created a skating rink in my driveway but by now the passage is pretty much bare of snow and ice.  Overhead, unfortunately, the skies remain gray and overcast, and the effect is a gloomy one.

The wheel of the year is turning, however.  The bluebirds, which I haven’t seen since snow first blanketed the mountain, are back.  Where they were hiding, I have no idea.  Did they venture off the mountain to some sheltered tangle with a bit of open water?  Or did they stay here all the time, and I just somehow missed seeing them?  Joining the bluebirds now are robins, too.  One muddy afternoon, a huge flock of them, more than 100 birds, settled in a muddy field, scavenging for hours.

Other than birds and the ubiquitous squirrels, I haven’t seen much of the forest animals. The deer, I know, are wandering around, munching my juniper bushes. But the other residents—the skunk, raccoon, fox and the like—are not in evidence, neither by sight, sound or smell.

Colder weather has returned after the teasing thaw, but even that doesn’t feel as deep as before.  The days are mostly near freezing, and the nights in the ‘teens. The temperature rises and falls, some days warmer and some still quite cold.  Even that is an improvement over the constant chill of two or three weeks ago.  The cold days are just that—cold days, not the cold weeks with no end in sight.  So the season turns, slightly but inexorably towards winter’s end.

Digging out

On Sunday, a thaw began to take hold on the mountain, the first since sometime back in December. In a few places, such as the south-facing stony road cut of the lane up to my cabin, I can see a patch or two of bare ground.

Elsewhere, snow still covers the forest. I checked its depth yesterday and found that instead of being just shy of knee-deep, where it lay for weeks, it is now just above my ankle-high boots. There is still quite a ways to go for it to disappear, but there’s been quite a bit of progress, too.


…Except perhaps in my icy driveway. In fact, to me it appears as though the ice has disappeared everywhere but my driveway. Even there progress was made, though not as much as I expected, given the mid-40 degree temperature and the incredible amount of ice melt and grit I’ve thrown into it.

I am even starting to be able to identify a few of the snow-covered bumps around my property—here a boulder, there a ceramic pot that I didn’t get inside before the snow fell. And like those slowly appearing mystery objects, I feel as though I am just beginning to dig my own way out of the icy depths of work—both at home and at the office—that has kept me buried since about December, as well.

Like the mystery objects around the cabin, I am not “there” yet, but I am starting to feel there’s an end to it now, a time when I will see my way clear to the blue sky above and feel the warm sun on my face.

Respite

Winter sunset

Despite that ice that still plagues my cabin, I am starting to get the sense that winter’s tightest grip is easing a bit. The first sunny sky in days and the first (if very briefly held) 40° reading on the thermometer were the reasons for that sense. Neither of those will last very long. Yesterday's sunny sky is already overcast, and today’s temperature, while happily above freezing by noon, seems stuck just above that mark so far today.

I am not the only creature in my forest who seems to have noticed the improving weather, however. Last night an opossum appeared, skittering away as quickly as a ’possum can skitter on ice, much to the excitement of Dog. It’s the first one I’ve seen since around Thanksgiving or so. A raccoon, though not Pig, was also out the day before. And this morning I smelled skunk, another first in several months. Yesterday I looked in vain for a circling Turkey Vulture. They winter just to the south of me, and I often see them on the very first day with a warming trend in February. Too soon, I guess.

Still, it’s signs like these that raise my spirits a bit or at least give me even a momentary respite from the ice and cold. I like winter, though when I think about it, my vision of a good winter is one with cold, sunny days and snow on the ground. Fog and gray clouds with ice underfoot is not part of that picture, so my enthusiasm for this year’s winter is less than it usually is. I don’t know that I’m yet to the point of wishing for spring, but I sure won’t mind being able to get out into the woods and walk around again.