|Before the big snows came.|
Like so many others, we've been hunkering down, stocking up, and shoveling out an awful lot over the past week. More snow is on the way Monday, which is fine by us. We'll put another log on the fire.
I grabbed the above shot out my study window during the "Great Blizzard of 2015." We only received about 22 inches--much less than some folks south of us. Then a second, smaller storm blew in on Friday. I think we're up to about 30 inches, which translates into snowbanks up to my shoulders. This time Monday they will be well above my head!
I took a break from shoveling on Monday to take a few quickies of the garden with my iPhone. I especially love the bits of sprigs and twigs that seem so delicate, yet don't break, even under two or three feet of snow.
Mr. Magpie shared a fantastic piece with me from the Boston Globe about "Snow Removal Types." It had us giggling, as we know people who fit nearly every category of snow shoveler listed here. Mr. M. is definitely "The Incrementalist," so, during a heavy storm, we tend to head out every two to three hours to do another pass over the drive and walkway. At the time I shot this photo, at least 12 inches had already fallen. Notice the nearly clear front porch? That's the work of the Incrementalist. ;)
Maybe the best part about the snow has been that we've been able to get out to do some incredible snowshoeing. The days in between storms have boasted gloriously blue skies like the one above, and very little wind.
We watched a documentary the other night about some folks who walked the John Muir Trail in California. Sprinkled throughout the film are quotes from the man himself, and one in particular that I had forgotten about (although how I do not know) struck a chord with me: "When one tugs at a single thing in nature, he finds it attached to the rest of the world."
Trudging out onto the salt marshes of Maine Audubon at Gilsland Farm, those words echoed in my mind. Across the Presumpscot River estuary, cars rushed along 295; overhead, the vapor trails of planes crisscrossed the sky; at the edges of the preserve, smoke billowed from the chimneys of the large show homes wealthy folks have built for the glorious views. None of it stopped us from seeing eyelet-lace rabbit trails in the snow . . . or Eastern bluebirds in the trees that bordered the meadows . . . or the glowing white underside of a gull against the blue as it flew above us. The human world is so loud and harsh and destructive so much of the time. I'm grateful for every bit of nature we still have, and I hold onto each piece as tightly as I can.
So, more snow is on the way, which will mean more wintry shots from me, I'm sure. For those of you shoveling your way through January, February, and March, I hope you're staying as warm and safe as possible, and I also hope that you're getting a chance every day to enjoy a little of the beauty of winter, too. xo Gigi