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Category: snow

All That Glitters

All That Glitters

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Walks have been slower lately, both to baby an aching foot and stay clear of icy patches on the street. I miss the faster pace. I see more of the landscape this way, true, but the landscape of late winter is not always one on which you want to linger. 

Odd remnants of leftover snow, garbage cans seemingly abandoned by the side of the road, piles of pruned and discarded azalea branches. I’m reminded of late winter in Chicago, when the snow would melt and my enthusiasm for warmer weather would be tempered by seeing what had been hiding beneath the white stuff for weeks.

The suburban landscape is more forgiving, though, the ratio of green to gray easier on the eye, and there have been times lately when the salt crystals on the road gleam like so many rough diamonds. At my slower pace I can see them sparkle. 

Leaving a Trace

Leaving a Trace

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I noticed them the minute I stepped out of the house on Sunday. There was no evidence of humans making their way through the newly fallen snow — but a world of animal tracks greeted me on that still morning.

Tiny bird footprints, the skittering marks of a squirrel or chipmunk, and the more dog-like paw prints of our local fox. Whether hopping, scampering or loping, these animals left their marks.

We think of snow as a covering, coating the verges and leaf piles, making smooth the weed-strewn and the bald-patched.

But snow reveals as well as conceals. It tells us who was here and, if we pay attention, how recently. It’s a blank white slate on which movements make their mark. 

Walker Meets Ice

Walker Meets Ice

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These days, walks are timed for optimal warmth and light. They must also flow around work projects and meetings, which is how I found myself looking for strips of pavement amid the icy patches on our street yesterday about 3 p.m. 

The snow had finally stopped, which wasn’t altogether welcome — it was fun living inside a snow globe for a few days — and a stiff breeze was drying off the wet parts of the road. The problem was that it was freezing the slush almost as quickly. 

I’m a fearless walker … until ice enters the picture. I have a healthy respect for it and will be glad when it melts away. Until then, I will make my way through the landscape very slowly … if at all! 

(Above: where ice should stay, in my humble opinion!) 

Snowscape

Snowscape

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The snowy Sunday quietly and steadily remained a snowy Monday, and has now — wonder of wonders! — become a snowy Tuesday. 

As I write, the flurries that made it difficult to keep a path clean for Copper down the deck stairs (he’s old and slips a lot) have continued flying. The railing I scraped off yesterday has at least another inch or two of white coating. 

Best of all, the winter wonderland brought to us by 28 degrees and enough cold aloft to produce these flakes still falling remains a vision, a snowscape, a sight for sore eyes. 

Snowy Sunday

Snowy Sunday

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It’s not just that the snow fell, finally, the first significant accumulation in two years, but that it fell on Sunday, when many of us could enjoy it. Into the snow went dogs and babies (two of the latter for the first time!). Out of it (and the time if provided) came photos; chicken and wild rice soup; and chocolate chip muffin bread.

Mostly what came of it was total relaxation. There wasn’t much I could do outside. And although there was much I could have done inside, the snow gave me permission to ignore it. 

I read in the morning, watched television while eating lunch, and as the soup simmered and the bread baked, I sat in the darkening living room looking at the white world outside. 

Flip Side

Flip Side

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Washington, D.C., had its first official snow day yesterday, with a quick-moving and more-powerful-than-anticipated storm closing federal government offices and sending commuters and school kids out on deteriorating roads.

It was a chaotic scene that’s now replaced by the peacefulness of a snow-crusted Wednesday morning. I’m working in front of a window with the transformed world spread out before me. Every limb and branch is coated in white with crows providing the contrast. When birds land on a snow-covered limb, a bit of the white stuff falls to the ground in a small clump, creating a second gentle snowfall.

I’m not a skier or skater. Walking and shoveling are the occupations that get me out into the elements. But I love these snowscapes just the same. They are a monochromatic, matte version of the usual scenery, a flip side, so to speak.

A Dusting

A Dusting

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If I blink I’ll miss it, but my part of northern Virginia is awakening to a dusting of snow on grass and cars. It will melt away as soon as it has a chance but it’s good to see it again, if only briefly.

Even as I write these words, I ask myself, why the excitement? Cold weather bothers me and I don’t like driving in snow.  The vague tingle has to be left over from childhood, the sudden gift of a day off school.

But there is more, too. Snow transforms; it softens the landscape, makes it otherworldly. There is wonder in that, and a release, too.

(This photo was taken a few years ago when there was considerably more accumulation — but it proves the point!)

Snowflake Spotting

Snowflake Spotting

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Snowflakes were spotted yesterday, and the temperature never rose about the “high” of 37 that greeted me when I woke up. It’s Arctic air, the weather people said, and I wonder: Does Arctic air feel colder than plain old winter air?

Today I’d have to say yes. That may be because it was 15 degrees when I woke up and there’s a stiff breeze out there, too. Emerging from the Crystal City Underground felt like a slap in the face. Even just a few hundred feet of exposure was enough to send me shivering inside.

But the sun is bright and a big old moon was still up this morning when I walked Copper across the frost-stiffened grass. We’re moving closer to solstice, so ’tis the season for shivering. Which is just what I’m doing now.

(Caution: Snowflakes in the window may be smaller — and less real — than they appear.)

Conversational Snow

Conversational Snow

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It’s March 9 and the daffodils have pushed themselves at least two inches through ground. But the ground is now covered … not in mulch but in snow.

Welcome to what the Capital Weather Gang calls “conversational snow.” This is white stuff that we talk about but do not fear. Snow that clings to trees and grass but not roads.

This snow fell yesterday but lingers today. Conversational? Yes. But not hardly whispered. Just ask the witch hazel tree (foreground), with its yellow blossoms all coated and frozen. It would like to change the conversation, I think. And it will have its chance. Tomorrow, we could hit 70!

Second Coat

Second Coat

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To live in the mid-Atlantic is to know snow that falls then melts, or is rained out of existence; in other words, snow that seldom lingers. That will happen to us tomorrow—but today, we’re being treated to a rare event: a second snowfall the refreshes the first.

It began late yesterday afternoon. At that point it was mostly just wetting the pavement. But as temperatures dropped overnight, the snow stuck, at least where I live. And now last Sunday’s snow, which was beginning to look old and tired and dirty, has a lovely second coat.

Once again, tree limbs are outlined in the white stuff, each tiny branch made softer and more significant with the addition. Deck rails are padded. Even the air seems filled with snow, though I think it is just fog, posing.

By Monday, I’m told, rains will have washed away all of our pretty snow and Arctic air will scour the landscape. But today it’s soft and white and pretty as a postcard.