For most of this winter, the water of the bay has shaded between pale grey to slate grey, and black, reflecting the unrelenting cloud. When the sun came out this week, the water sparkled sky-blue. A treat to raise the spirits.

Whatever the colour, waves have moved against the rocks, rolled over them in high wind, gently lapped against them on a calm day. We've seen white caps and billowing waves in storm.

What we have not seen is ice. A very few times, near to shore, a clear sheet held the water still. A few days, ice-rocks have rolled against the shore, and the surface of the water has looked slushy. Those who want to fish have stood on the river banks near the bay, because the solid white covering that we usually get is nowhere to be seen.

Last winter, the open water worried me: I was afraid the lake level would drop because of evaporation. The lack of snow cover on the field also worried me: I knew the fields would start off dry.

Some of these worries I am escaping this year. Snow is piled along the roads and our lane. Snow is thick beside the fence rows. A layer blankets the land. Because of the warm temperatures, the snow cover is melting at ground level, soaking in. When spring comes, the land will be well hydrated. Even if we don't get a lot of spring rain, there is moisture there for the plants and trees.

There is water everywhere. Our swamp is full of water, and the rivers I drive past are running fast. With each thaw and each rain storm, rivulets of water have flowed down our lane. A dark stream runs from the pond melting the snow. Puddles of water appear on each warm day far out into the field. I know this worries snowmobilers who are sticking to the tracks, staying away from low places.

There is ice, just not where it usually appears. Until the last few days, our lane has been a skating rink. Each time the temperature rises above zero, the bed of snow turns to slush. Then, the temperature falls again, and it freezes into a solid, thick layer of ice.

In this up and down winter, freezing rain has coated trees and roads. Rain has washed snow away and then frozen into hazardous black patches on the highways and concession roads. Damp air has turned to fog and then as the temperatures dipped, coated everything with a layer of ice. I've looked out the window at a shrub, thought I saw raindrops on the branches, only to realize that the small bright domes are ice.

Last fall we were promised a classic winter, but it has not come. We've had some storms and some cold days, but nothing below minus eighteen at our place. I miss those clear February nights when the air bites the skin but the stars above are magnificent. I don't miss the frozen water in the barn at minus thirty, or having to wait until the sun warms the hood of the car to get it to start, but I have seldom gotten through a winter in Grey County without at least one day like that.

This worries me. Specifically, I've worried about driving and walking on the ice. But more generally, it feels like a warning that climate change is having an impact. What global warming will do to our climate long term is very hard to predict. I saw one article that said Canada will have more "nice" days. "Nice" was defined as twenty degrees and sunny. Comfortable as a day like that is, we need rain. Some flower seeds need to freeze before they will sprout. And this winter has not been "nice".

The fact of climate change hit home in January when the gas price jumped because of the carbon tax. Whether we think that is an adequate strategy or not, at least it is something. If nothing else, what we pay at the pump and the strange weather should convince us that it is past time to do something about global warming.

Cathy Hird is a farmer, minister, and writer living near Walters Falls.