Waldo doesn’t seem to be bothered by the snow.
To appreciate the beauty of a snowflake it is necessary to stand out in the cold.
-Aristotle
It’s cold out today, with temps around 10℉, and there is an intermittent breeze. There is a light dusting of powdery snow left over from the last storm, a few days ago. I recently heard of something called “Musher’s Secret,” a combination of waxes that, when spread over and between dogs’ pads, protects them from salt and icing. These are the conditions which cause Waldo to bite at ice between his toes. He doesn’t tolerate doggy booties, so I decided to give the wax a try. Earlier, he let me smear the stuff on and didn’t try to lick it off. So far, so good. I’ll be watching him now, to see if he bites at his feet or tries to avoid walking in the snow.
The first part of the trail is plowed, up to the border with Hudson. There’s still some compacted snow on the ground that wasn’t removed by the plow, but, by and large, it’s easy going. I’m dressed in my parka, with a knit ski-cap over my head and ears, and the hood is up. I’m wearing winter gloves and, although I can feel the cold, I’m not shivering. When the wind is really blowing, or if it’s colder than now, I wear my rain pants too. They keep the heat in really well, but I know later on, after I’ve built up some exercise-induced body heat, I’ll be too warm. So, no rain pants today.
Waldo hits the trail and is soon off into the untouched snow, romping and rolling, making snow-doggies. He doesn’t seem to be bothered by the cold at all. Sometimes, after a snowstorm, he’s challenged to find sticks to herd. I’ve seen him go underneath many a bush and rip off a low hanging branch so he has something to put between his teeth. But not today. Heavy winds, during the past few days, have provided plenty of wood lying about on top of the white stuff. He “tempts” me to play keep-away, and/or tug-of-war, with one, but is soon off doing his Waldo thing, oblivious to the cold and ice. We don’t go far before we meet people (swaddled in thick wintery garb like me) and other dogs. He elicits his toll of pets and pats from the people and canine sniffs and licks from the pups. He just might prefer the winter because there are fewer bicycles out and about (but not always none).
After about a half-mile, my fingers ache because of the cold and I alternate which hand holds Waldo’s leash while the other is coiled in a fist to get warm. Even given the aching fingers and, of course, numb cheeks, I’m not shivering and feel quite toasty. I know from experience that after about three miles, the cold parts will no longer be a problem and soon after that, I’ll be dropping the hood and unzipping my parka a bit, to keep from sweating. In these conditions, I may have to do that intermittently, as I might get a bit cold while unwrapped and need to re-bundle up. All in all, I’ve learned, over the years, that the thought of venturing out into the cold is much worse than the doing of it — given that some intelligent preparation is done.
There are times when we don’t go for our wintertime long walks. We don’t go when the snow on the ground is too deep (it’s just too much work) or if it gets ridiculously cold (like in the negative digits). But, adequately prepared, once we’re out in the cold, wintery nature offers up her seasonal splendor to enjoy. The Musher’s Secret seems to be working, or maybe the conditions aren’t quite right to make icicle toe jam. I can’t tell. Maybe, just maybe , it will increase the number of days we can walk.
In the depths of winter, there is a quiet poetry, almost as if things are caught in still-life. It has an essential beauty and feeling that is buried by the more energetic, riotous, frenetic world of color, overwhelming the warmer seasons. I look out over the beige and white landscape and it reminds me of the sepia photographs that were popular back in the day. I can see so much further with the leaves of plants gone. Only naked plant skeletons are left behind to obstruct my view. Broad white snow-covered meadows spread out in undulating seascapes, rolling off into the distance until they disappear into distant trees, like waves breaking on distant shores. When we pass through the densest forests, I can peer deep into the woods and see the hilly ground on which they stand and get a lay of the land that’s totally obscured in greener times of the year. Some photographers feel that they can shine their artistry better with black-and-white photos than in color and nature does a pretty damn good job of it too.
All in all, I’m grateful to have the winter months to get out and walk in. I don’t prefer it to the other seasons, but I do enjoy the stark variety it has to offer. Even deserts have their beauty, you know. The full spectrum of the seasons provides an artistry that I miss when it’s not there, like in the tropics. And winter has something else to offer the other seasons don’t.
Getting out of the cold and returning to a warm home and a hot cup of chai.
This tunnel is the border with Hudson, where it is never plowed.