Snowscape.
One of those days. A lot on my plate already—and add to that the need to shovel crusty, icy snow off the deck and stairs and front walkway. But I shouldn’t complain: the hour’s exercise warmed me, made me sweat, got my pulse rate up, got the endorphins flowing. I actually stripped to my waist at my desk to cool off. Never mind that a number of client emergencies kept me scrambling—I managed to solve a few puzzles, get a little done, and do a few humdrum errands besides.
Beech Nut.
Still, it wasn’t until fairly late in the afternoon that I could ask Jack if he wanted to go to Beech Hill.
Wore snowshoes again. It was a good plan. In fact, mine was perhaps the second (maybe third) vehicle to plow into the Beech Hill Road parking lot, and ours were one of only a handful of feet to climb the hill today. We chose the already-tramped-down snowshoe passage and headed up.
The sun that had beamed down all day, melting the ice (thankfully) and warming things generally still flooded the southern slope with golden light. An antic north wind played across the snow-covered landscape, raising clouds of flakes that shimmered like flying gold dust. Under one of the confiers along the road, I thought I heard black-capped chickadees, so we stopped. Sure enough: two or three chickadees cheeped and foraged among its green boughs. Then I saw another little bird that didn’t look like a chickadee. Kinglet, was my guess—and a kinglet it was, flitting, active, pecking around. I tried for photos but failed.
Drifts on the trail.
We resumed our hike and trudged up the snowy trail. The mostly blue sky held a few deep blue clouds that created a crazy-looking landscape—dark above bright below. The snow had melted from the stones of Beech Nut but lay in drifts that had risen, no doubt, all day. (Along one stretch of trail, in fact, we encountered what must’ve been a four-foot drift, at least.) The bay islands showed little bright snowy outlines.
Returning, we met the wind full-force. I thought I might have to put up my hood, but I didn’t. My face stung, and my ears got numb, but I sure did feel alive.
We met Jack’s little friend Lucy ascending near the base of the hill, her master braving the trail without snowshoes. He thanked us for coming before and tromping things down. I looked for owls again but so no sign.
Tonight, the half-moon is illuminating the snowfall and giving the woods a blue glow. I can’t help but notice how Orion and Sirius now suddenly occupy a prominent place in the heavens. All on account of the tilted pole of our revolving planet, headed once more around the sun.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 3:30 p.m., I hiked the open trail.
1. Black-capped chickadee
2. Golden-crowned kinglet
Elsewhere
3. American crow
Sundown.
Tags: American crow, black-capped chickadee, golden-crowned kinglet
