The other night was brilliantly snowy. When it died down, I went for a walk along some nearby trails. The wind somehow never seems to penetrate much to ground level there. Everything around me was quite still - but not quiet. Above was the sound of wind in tall trees, and loud creaking of branches.
The many shades of light upon snow meant I didn’t miss the lack of fall’s colour at all; nevertheless, there were reminders.
The creek is still alive and mostly unfrozen, though ice is creeping over. It’s less obtrusive than usual, due to the high snow all around.
The snow is knee-deep, and for the most part, the only path was a light one formed by a skier, so I got to be one of the first to break a path and see the trails after the snow. I stopped to look at many things, and took an immoderate number of pictures (more are posted on Flickr).
My most fun discovery was that if I ran really fast, I didn’t sink as far down into the snow as if I just walked. So I sprinted a good way, and jogged, and then ran really fast some more after catching my breath a bit. I went even faster than I would run if there was no snow, because there was no danger of catching my foot on a rock, and only a very small danger of encountering another person. It was good fun. I felt like a little girl, in my kids’ snowboots, and long johns, and my skirt flying up to my knees as I ran along.
a quickr pickr post
February 16, 2008 at 6:34 am
It looks so magical!