winter storm – Laurie Apgar Chandler

To think I almost put my snowshoes away

It’s been a while, hasn’t it?

Sadly, February was mainly dedicated to flu survival and recovery. Happily, I got better in time to visit my children in Virginia, meeting their new chickens, touring Monticello, and celebrating my former brother-in-law’s 50th birthday. (How could that be?)

Now, somehow, I find myself a week away from spring, with visions of paddling trips dancing in my head. There is much to share and catch up on!

View of last week’s snow-laden trees from flat on my back. I’d been tugging on a sapling bent across the path and pinned to the snowy ground. As it popped free, I tumbled backwards, arms flailing, to see the forest from a slightly different angle!

Today is another snow day, our ninth, counting the 3 days we missed with October’s wind storm. That is two more than in any other school year I can remember. With our third nor’easter in 11 days upon us, and a blizzard warning, we may miss tomorrow as well. Last week’s storm brought about 14 inches of wet, heavy snow that plastered itself to the sides of trees and created Dr. Seuss-like mounds on every branch and twig.

In late February, I was tickled by the sign above, spotted in Thomaston during a book delivery jaunt. The weather was warm and the air felt like spring. I truly did almost put my snowshoes away. Now I think the groundhog may have been wiser than I thought!

Out snowshoeing this morning, with just a dusting of new powder, turkey tracks were everywhere. In places, the forest floor was in turmoil where they’d torn up the leaf litter in search of food. Hopefully the turkeys were feasting on ticks, already active here in Maine. I found the first one of the year crawling on my pants last week. Seems like we should either have ticks or blizzards, not both!

Usually, I have the back woods to myself. This morning, though, I was greeted by a new friend. Our neighbors had taken a walk with their kids, leaving behind this snowman, decorated with branches, pine cones, and lichen. By mid-afternoon, he was rapidly becoming just a snowman-shaped blob.

Well, it certainly feels good to be back to writing. Look for more news soon, including updates on Upwards and the author life and perhaps even some paddling plans. Then, in April, our family adventure in France will take us to Paris, Normandy, Brittany, and the Loire Valley. Until then, stay warm, dry, and safe!

Bombogenesis…it even sounds scary!

Winter so far has brought enough bitter cold and snow to make us believe that it’s serious this year. The snowshoeing has been great. I’m thinking of it as the start of training for next summer’s north woods adventure (still in the planning stages).

Berries at the edge of the swamp shone in a coat of ice last week.

The word “bombogenesis” had somehow escaped my notice for some 56 years…until yesterday. According to NOAA, the term describes the rapid intensification of a mid-latitude cyclone, measured by its drop in central atmospheric pressure. A drop of 24 millibars or more in 24 hours creates a bomb cyclone like Winter Storm Grayson, whose pressure dropped an incredible 59 millibars as it approached New England yesterday. Skies are still dark here, but soon I’ll head out to start shoveling my way to the garage and our snow blower. As of now, school is open with a 2-hour delay.

Farewell small spots of bare ground, farewell to tracks and signs of life that laced the winter woods, farewell to quick and easy walking…soon all my trails must be won once more.

Around nine in the morning, the first powdery sprinkling of snow began dusting the ground. As I followed my favorite trail by the swamp to a far hill, I took a last look at the many animal tracks, almost memorized in my traipsing back and forth day after day. Dad had discovered the scene in the photo below, one sunny day last week. “There’s a story!” he exclaimed. Tiny prints of mouse or vole raced for the cover of a hole, the sweep of owl wings marking either the creature’s demise or narrow escape.

I ventured out again around one o’clock yesterday. The blizzard conditions were just starting, and snow was quickly reclaiming the forest, even a moving person. The particles bombarded me, an audible pelting against my parka. Once, a gust of wind gave a hint of the fury soon to follow and I thought of turning back, but didn’t. I was warm, the temperature thirty degrees warmer than on some recent days. At the same far hill, I turned around, the tracks I’d made already blurring into fluffy whiteness.

Trudging home, I could still faintly see depressions from the ski poles that my daughter Megan had used on Christmas week. Soon, they, too, would be buried, our ramblings just a pleasant memory of a week of family fun. The woods tomorrow will be all new.