Marlborough plows the trail.
…For we have strayed far.
But one is never too lost
To rediscover the Path…
-Falisa Tang
Ten days after Waldo and I finished walking the route of the Mass Central Rail Trail, we had our first snow. A cold, snowy airmass moved down to us from the south and east. A warmer, rainy airmass moved up from the north and east. They met over Marlborough, in a line running southwest to northeast, consisting of wet snow, sleet and freezing rain. Places a mere 15-minute drive north of Marlborough had a snow accumulation of up to 9 inches. Belchertown, the last city we walked through, got 6 inches. South of us got mostly freezing rain.
At the beginning of the storm, the grounds outside of our apartment were covered by around 3 inches of snow. Then came the freezing rain that coated much of what was already on the ground with a thin sheet of ice. Some of the snow melted in the rain, but what was left was slush. The next day, there was a hard freeze that turned everything to ice. It’s still walkable without crampons, but not by much. Waldo and I finished our trek toward Northampton just in time.
Now, here we are, back on the Assebet River Rail Trail. The portion that runs from the beginning of the trail to the Hudson border, just short of 2.25 miles, was plowed, leaving a swath of clear tarmac roughly 6 feet wide. On either side is a layer, 1 inch thick or so, of white, crunchy ice full of footprints where other people and dogs walked. Even the unplowed areas aren’t too slick and we step out there, when required, to let other people, dogs, and even bicycles, pass. In Hudson, where no plow ever ventures, it is mostly crunchy ice, also full of footprints, bicycle and even baby stroller tracks. Waldo and I are never the only intrepid souls who brave even the worst of the weather Mother Nature shares with those who will not be cloistered when things get nasty.
Waldo is happy with the cooler temperatures and the snow and ice doesn’t seem to bother him. In certain conditions, when the temperature drops below 10℉ and the snow is light and powdery, so it can work its way between his pads and freeze into ice, his feet can really bother him. But not today. He’s wandering around, out into the icy snow, doing his Waldo thing — grabbing sticks, sniffing the bushes and leaving his scent where he goes. There are a few bicycles that we pass, but not many, and Waldo doesn’t seem concerned by them. He’s out at the front end of the leash and simply makes room for any that pass.
Me, I’m happy not having to fight the Rosa multiflora. I do miss the adventure of having to find an antique path through the weeds, but any walk in the woods offers plenty. It’s nice, too, seeing how things have changed on our rail trail. While exploring the MCRT, we still came out here on the days we weren’t out west, but we weren’t here every day. Today, the fallen dead leaves and ground, that we last trod on, are now covered in white. The chilly breeze requiring a jacket has been replaced by a biting, icy blow that prods and probes in search of some way to penetrate the puffy parka I now wear. It feels like it was late fall when we last walked here and now winter has beset us with its months-long siege.
We pass by the spot, next to the Covid Garden, where I planted some wild flower seed. There never were any flowers there, so I don’t know if the seed took root or not. I’m hoping that there are plants there, they just need a year to mature enough to blossom forth. Any flowers that did sprout will have to compete with some very hardy weeds who will not be willing to readily surrender ground, so it’s not a foregone conclusion. Over this last spring, summer and fall, I did see green plants grow there, and some of them, I think, were my flowers. But I also saw local plants in the same spot that I know for sure I didn’t plant. Spring will tell.
The Covid Garden is asleep for the season and the new park is in hibernation. The English ivy tree is covered in dark green leaves, white pines are a spiky pale green and garlic mustard can be seen here and there, poking up through the ice. Everything else is a pale shade of tan to beige. No birds are out singing and the rabbits and squirrels are out of sight, doing their best to stay warm. Mother Nature has assumed her quiet, subdued wintry posture. Hello, Assebet River Rail Trail! Waldo and I are back and we’ll be greeting you on nearly a daily basis.
At least until it thaws a bit.
Hudson doesn’t.