Where the Snow Goes When It Melts

The big snow lasted on the ground well over a week here at the farm, and when it began in earnest to depart, a fair amount of it exited by way of our creek. Just a day after I visited its snow-covered banks, the creek had taken on a wholly different character:

What Vanishes From The Meadow Lingers In The Shade

Yesterday's brief, lovely,.light snow was, as I wrote, just enough -- enough to coat the meadow and the trees, and not much more than that. Gone by midday today in those areas that receive full sun. Only a hint lingers in the shade at the edge of the forest.

A bit more lingers on my drive, as I expected.

Even the above-freezing temperatures today weren't enough to clear it. This weekend's warmup wiil take care of things pretty quickly, but until then, I'll be hiking to and from the car.

Which is no rough duty. The pantry is well-stocked, and I have no heavy or bulky goods to carry. The day's mail and newspapers, little more than that. I can take my time and when I pause it will be because I wish to, not to give my arms a rest or, as has happened more than once, rearrange things for easier transport.

 Not much snow remains in the woods, and I doubt if very much actually made it to the ground.

But what little snow lingers there is gorgeous and is itself, worth lingering over as I make my way past.

Which I did.

Just Enough

The snow that finally began arriving early in the afternoon was heavy, wet, gorgeous, and brief.

A lovely coating for a good stay-by-the-fire afternoon interrupted by one brief walk

Just enough.

Driven To Walk Through The Woods

A measure of excessive caution borne of being stuck at the bottom of my drive one too many times, a sense of the already slick spots on my drive, and an obligation or two late in the week prompted me to move the car to its snowplace, as I think of it -- a spot beside the road at the top of the hill.

There, the car may well be stuck if it snows deeply enough (it won't, this time), but whatever weather comes, the car and I won't be fighting gravity as well as slickness. I will have to walk up the hill to be able to drive out it, but I don't mind that.  

Even less do I mind walking back down, either on the drive if carrying groceries and other things, or, as today, unburdened, down through the woods.

The clouds were already thickening -- with rain, mostly, I believe -- and the shadows in the forest were twilight-thick at three in the afternoon. Fine by me. I was in no hurry, there was enough light for me (if not my aging camera), and the shadows reminded me to take even more time. I lingered and loitered a bit, looking at favorite trees and rocks, smiling at the deerpaths I saw.

Emerging finally at the edge of the meadow, I stopped for awhile to look at the farm beneath the clouds. They still didn't look like snowclouds, but I still didn't regret moving the car any more than I had ever really regretted moving the now motionless truck, whose rearwheel drive had more trouble with a snowy drive than the frontwheel-driven Geo.

Neither vehicle, though, is as reliable in winter weather -- or the possibility of it -- as my feet.

And neither can take me through the woods.

Small Hours, No Snow

Up for a couple of hours, reading, making notes, glancing outside occasionally to see if the slight chance of snow called for tonight turned into anything more than that.

So far nothing -- and doubt by now that there will be anything tonight.

Fine by me. While I love snow -- and enjoy being snowed in here at the farm more than I probably should -- a few days of a snow and ice-free drive is something I would enjoy even more. The last round did some damage that I will need to repair, and left a couple of slick muddy spots that are tricky enough to get past already. A clear, cold weekend will give me time to get started on the repairs.

I just took a brief stroll out to the meadow, not so far as the edge of the woods. The moon was bright through gaps in the clouds. Cold, and the clouds are thicker than they were an hour or two ago, but it doesn't feel like snow.

And neither, tonight anyway, do I.