More snow, with fresh footprints.
To appreciate the beauty of a snowflake, it is necessary to stand out in the cold.
-Aristotle
Snow is falling in tiny little dry flakes all around us as Waldo and I walk down the Assebet River Rail Trail. It’s more like Mother Nature’s dandruff than the big puffy milkweed wisps that gently float down when it’s snowing hard. I really like it when I’m surrounded by the big fluffy stuff wafting around me. It makes the universe feel so small. You certainly can’t see very far and sound doesn’t travel well, so the world seems close and personal, like it ends just a few feet away. It’s almost like existence is giving you a hug. The small stuff is nice too, though. And the best part is that it doesn’t accumulate into deep piles that make you work and sweat for every step.
Of course, this all presupposes that there’s not much wind. A good hefty breeze can be brutal. It drives the flakes into the exposed skin of your face, turning their pillowy softness into icy needles that not only painfully poke, they also stick and grow into icicles hanging from any exposed hair (like a mustache). And, of course, the wind chill factor can drop the apparent temperature by tens of degrees. Most heavy snow falls when the air temperature is around 32℉, but in a blizzard, it is, effectively, much colder. And all that wind can produce some really interesting phenomena too. I remember driving home from work, one winter night, in a blizzard. It was blowing so hard that I was engulfed by lightning all around me (turbulence makes lightning). There were no nearby strikes, but there were some close enough that their boom shook my car. It was surreal to be plowing through a sea of snow that was occasionally lit up by a bright flash of light, making a good bit of the white air momentarily glow.
But I digress. Nothing like that is happening today. There is next to no breeze and the snow is ever so slowly falling and joining its kin on the ground. The storm started more than 4 hours ago, but there’s only about 2 inches of accumulation, so the walking is easy. The patches of ice that were left from the last storm are small and few enough that I can avoid them, even though I can’t see them. I just have to remember where they are. I slip a little, here and there, but I don’t come close to falling.
Because it’s been hours since the snow started, there are footprints in the snow. A lot of them. And doggy pawprints and a few tracks of mechanical devices, like bicycles and baby buggies. We pass a few people, sometimes with their dogs, but no wheeled vehicles. There are no indigenous beasts out and about, neither squirrels, nor rabbits, nor birds, that I can see or hear, and I don’t see any tracks either. They must be snuggling next to their versions of a hearth, waiting for the storm to pass.
Waldo is having a great time. He’s trotting along, nose close to the ground, going back and forth, searching for the ultimate snort (I suppose). Once in a while, he’ll drop his jaw and scoop up a dollop of the white stuff to slake his thirst (I’m guessing). When I stop walking, for whatever reason, he goes off to the side of the trail, rolls over onto his back, and makes snow-doggies. Once in a while, he’ll find a stick, trot up to me and do his best to entice me with it. Just what he wants me to do, I’m not sure. He pokes me with it, or lifts a paw to swipe at my foot or leg, then retreats out of range, so I can’t grab the stick. I do my best to participate and he seems happy with the effort. This is his kind of weather and he’s reveling in it.
Today’s walk is decidedly different from our recent excursions through weeds and brambles. They were more of an exploration, a quest to get from where we were to where we wanted to go. What we’re doing today is more of a joyful indulgence, using our little patch of forest as a playground, in celebration of being alive in the natural world.
Both Waldo and I are grateful we have such a beautiful place to do that.
It always amazes me how many people come out here, as evidenced by their footprints, despite the weather.