Do you think the snow will stay? The year we were away, the folks looking after the farm said snow came the beginning of November and didn't leave until April.
Even the water was grey on Monday morning. A greenish-grey near shore and slate-grey farther out. Between the two was a small band of turquois-grey, the only brightness to be seen.
Above the water hung a pale grey mist, masking the escarpment, turning the distant cliffs and trees to a pale, hazy grey.
We've had wind. The last clinging yellow leaves have been pulled from the trees. For a few days, they made road and lawn bright. Then, they faded to brown, but on Monday they were buried under a layer of icy snow. Even the snow wasn't the shining white of January, but a dull imitation, hiding green grass, burying leaves. When it retreats, and I hope it will before the enduring snow sets in, the remaining leaves will have lost all colour and most of their shape.
The sky was hidden by low-hanging cloud, a pencil-grey. I suppose I should have been glad that they were not the deep blue storm clouds that were dumping snow south of us. Here, a few tiny flakes hovered in the air, hardly seen.
The tree trunks were pale grey, marked by slate-grey grooves, slashes, and circles. Tangles of branches stood clear now that the living leaves were gone. The spruce looked more black than green in the dim light, but in their thick needled branches, birds and squirrels took shelter from the wind.
The waves were strong, though not as wild as the storm that ended October. Too rough for the ducks. They sheltered on shore, waiting for a quiet moment to venture out for food. Some may decide that it is now time to head farther south, though a few mergansers stayed all last winter.
I decided that when I took out the recycling, I would also fill the bird feeders. Maybe freshening them up would entice blue jays and chickadees from hiding. Maybe even the cardinals would come. I found myself longing for the speck of red.
Later, as the grey road became covered in white, I watched shining black ravens rise from the ground and soar into the sky. I came upon a flock of snowbirds. Slate grey against the pearly grey sky, they dove and swooped, wings flashing. They rode the wind and challenged it. Such a dance! They could not brighten the dull day, but they did declare that there is energy even on a dull November day, perhaps even joy.
Tuesday, the sun did come out at home, though the thick cloud over the water suggested that east of us it was snowing. Brilliant blue sky above and dark blue water brightened the day. The moon peeked through the cloud early in the night, sending a shining path across the water, turning the snow bright. It disappeared as the night progressed, suggesting Wednesday would be grey again. Perhaps I'll catch sight of the sleek black of a raven, or get to watch those snowbirds dance.
Cathy Hird lives on the shore of Georgian Bay.
