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Nearly a half ton of packed snow prepares to slide off the garage roof
Another afternoon near 40 degrees. There’s a bite to the wind today, though, so it doesn’t feel as balmy outside. However, dripping continues throughout the woods as the snow melts and compresses underfoot.
You can almost sniff spring in the air. That is the biggest illusion of all. Back when we lived 500 miles south in the Lower Peninsula (dozens of years back) spring arrived almost coinciding with the Equinox. March showed her pretty face and the snow retreated. Dirt showed, seeds sprouted, and April wore flowers, sunshine and warm temperatures. Winter behaved like a gentleman and retreated on time.
Here in the Upper Peninsula, Winter is no gentleman. He refuses to leave. He hovers, he lingers, he stays endlessly. Two to three months from now, after we’ve been teased mercilessly with the prospects of Spring, he’ll finally depart for good. In the meantime, we learn to sigh with this cycle of freeze-warmth-melt-cold-freeze. Just when we’re ready to blossom ourselves, we’re back to frozen icicles hanging from the eaves. You’ll see. Just keep reading this blog for a few months and see if I’m right.
(A few years ago we still witnessed ice floating in the Keweenaw Bay near Memorial Day weekend. Perish the thought!)
See the above snow ready to slide off the garage roof-top? It hangs precariously off the edge, moving lower and lower down the metal roof as the temperature warms up. Then, suddenly, always unexpectedly, it lets go. My husband, who was in the garage at the time, said the force of the roof releasing its snow shook the walls and the cement floor of the building. It’s like a freight train suddenly arrives. The weight is immense as it releases and falls to the ground. No wonder roofs occasionally collapse around here. No wonder we’re forced to shovel our non-metal house roof.
Fragile lacy snow melts off the deck
I love the melting. There’s no dirt coming forth yet, as the snow on the ground measures too deep. Pockets begin to form along logs or branches, hollowed-out spaces where darkened wood or other mysterious factors melt the undergrowth. That spring-smell is exquisite; I suspect it’s wet wood or earth wafting upwards.
Let’s not get too attached, shall we? The weather fellow is predicting a few more days of this before another system from the west or north drops in and chills out the air once again. We have many weeks of winter to go; the ice still is forming on the bay.
In the meantime, enjoy the melt. Do not try sitting down by the bird feeder in your snow pants, though. It’s so wet you’ll soon be soaked.
Simply melting
Spruce pine cone
Winter-melt. That’s what you might call these past two days. Everywhere you can hear the drip, drip, drip of snow melting. The temperature soared to 40 degrees yesterday and some of us sighed with deep relief, already envisioning spring.
I spent almost three hours outside, soaking up the warmth, exploring. I snapped a hundred pictures, at least. The snow melting against the deck, the snow careening from the roof, the snow turning to water everywhere.
(My fellow partner in this house does not approve. He’s an ice fisherman, and delights in cold, as the cold means the ice is thickening on the bay. He wants to fish off Pequaming….soon. Therefore, we’re at “checkmate” every time the temperature rises. He wants it below freezing. I want it above. We’ve got an uneasy truce….)
After a half hour of shoveling and exploring and picture-taking around our house, the phone rang. It was my friend, Nancy (of cross-country skiing fame a week or so ago). “What are you doing?” she wanted to know. I thought she was angling another skiing invitation and began planning excuses due to my still-hurting tailbone. But instead–can you imagine?–she wanted me to come over and teach her how to take pictures on her digital camera.
Me? What a hoot! I barely know anything about the camera. The only thing I might have, and it’s debatable, is a photographic “eye”. It’s kind of like the imagination of visual artists. I see weird and unusual angles. That’s it. That’s the only thing that’s created any photos thus far in this blog.
But, to humor her, (and to get more pictures!) I agreed to come over. We spent almost three hours snapping pictures. What fun! For example, look at the photo below of Nancy attempting to capture the etched shadow of the word “Welcome” in the snow.
Nancy capturing a photographic wonder
Nancy has created amazing gardens around her house, so in the summertime we’ll explore some of her plantings and creations. In the meantime, we tromped through snow and I showed her the possibility of capturing photos at strange angles and perspectives. She was a quick learner. After awhile, she fixed us some herbal tea and we sat outside near the bird feeder and attempted to capture pictures of chickadees or a persistent woodpecker. What fun to sit outside at 40 degrees and drink tea and snap photos. Then she craftily decided to give me her camera, and take a picture of me taking pictures. Got that?
An afternoon photo shoot (with a dog named Rudy)
Afterward we walked along the trail behind their house. I can’t describe the lovely expansive feeling of being outside when the temperature first moves towards spring. The birds twittered and called and fluttered overhead. The drone of a far-away snowmobile sounded. Through the trees, you could see the wide expanse of the Huron Bay. It felt tropical. I swear it. I began to think it possible to spend hours and hours and hours outside enjoying the first winter-melt.
But, one last photo. You know my love affair with red berries, right? How’s this one? Unfortunately, Nancy’s not home so I can’t call and ask her once again for the name of this beautiful plant. She told me clearly at least twice. Let’s just enjoy, once again, the splash of color in our white and winter landscape.
Orange-red in the winter garden
One small step for mankind....
You guessed, didn’t you? Show of hands, please! How many of you guessed that yesterday’s outdoor adventure was the Winter Carnival 2009 at Michigan Technological University up in Houghton?
You probably didn’t know the theme this year: “A Frigid Place Gets a Blast from Space.” Yes, this is a frigid place. As for the blast from space, you will have to decide…..
Back in 1922 the carnival first started. Any of you alive back then may still recall the festivities. However it wasn’t until ’27 that events expanded to resemble today’s carnival. The students, fraternities and sororities begin building the snow statues weeks before (there are some constructed the night before, although these one-nighters don’t get dozens of photographers snapping pictures in most cases as they’re not as elaborate and magnificent).
We’ve lived here maybe 30 years and only really seriously examined the statues once or twice before. In my memory as of yesterday afternoon, we had never done it. However, my husband teased out a memory of at least one event years ago when we meandered among the statues, oohing and ahhhing. I guess I believe him.
Would you like something to eat at the "Galaxy Grill"?
Barry and I cut across campus near the library and attempted to view many of the statues. We never found the first place winner, unfortunately, so you can’t view that particular sculpture. It is amazing how the students craft these statues! I really have no idea how they technically do it (many of them are studying engineering) so let’s find some links. Here’s what Wikipedia says: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Snow_sculpture or how about this Michigan Tech website: http://www.mtu.edu/carnival/index.php?
An errant thermometer announced it was 64 degrees mid-campus, but no one believed it, as the statues wouldn’t still be frozen in that heat. Instead it was probably in the 20′s. (I would LOVE to be sharing today’s temperature & story with you….it hit 40 degrees, hurray! but we’re still covering yesterday, so please be patient. Maybe tomorrow I’ll tell you about today and we’ll get caught up on outdoor adventures….)
Hop aboard that dune buggy or car, why don't you?
After dinner, when the world darkened and the lights illuminated the statues, we tried to capture some evening images for you. Not very much luck. The statue we tried to spotlight featured no lights. We were tired and ready to head back to L’Anse. I was sipping a hazelnut latte and enjoying it mightily. However, we did discover a couple final shots. First, a group of students were playing broomball.
This is a tradition up at Tech, making it impossible to find good brooms during the winter at the hardware store. (although, come to think of it, maybe there’s MORE brooms than one would need….) The kids play this game sort of like hockey, except they wear no skates and sort of scurry around a rink attempting to knock a ball into a goal. I was too busy attempting to snap pictures to figure it out, so please return to Wikipedia to study up on the sport: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Broomball
Exciting broomball action!
One last photo for the evening. It’s my favorite. I know, it’s a little weird. But I am learning to love photography and viewing things at strange angles. We parked our car up in a student lot and walked down snow steps behind a statue. There, behind an ice window, were two perfectly formed “ice hands”. We probably weren’t suppose to be behind there, as most of the statues are roped off. But no signs warned us away, so I crept close and snapped the following picture:
Carefully sculpted ice hands
Waving at you! Thanks for coming along to Michigan Tech’s Winter Carnival with us!
Icicles hanging from eaves
Look at those icicles! We are living in the frozen north woods, aren’t we? So many of our houses are starting to sprout icicles as our too-warm interiors meet the too-cold outdoor temperatures without adequate roof ventilation. Our house hasn’t grown any lengthy beauties yet, so I’ve been on the look-out for majestic icicles for weeks.
Random fact from Wikipedia: when those icicles grow long enough to hit the ground (or a corresponding ice spike growing up from the ground) they’re called Ice Columns.
Remember these facts. There will be a quiz.
As for today’s outdoor adventure, it hasn’t happened yet. Not until later this afternoon and evening. Unfortunately, I’m not sure a computer will be handy until much later (at which point the bed & pillow may be more appealing than sculpting a blog) so tomorrow you’ll get today’s scoop!
The actual destination is a secret. Some of you know it already. For the rest of you, I am leaving hints lying around everywhere. There’s been a hint in almost every paragraph and photo. Janet and our personal offspring, do not tell. I will have to fiercely edit your comments. Some locals among you may guess.
OK, here’s a little hint. It’s “up the road”. For you non-local readers, up the road means driving north up to the Keweenaw Peninsula. The home of Michigan Technological University, Houghton, Hancock, Findlandia University, Calumet and the far reaches of Copper Harbor. It happens every year at this time of year and it’s almost famous.
Enough said! You can not pry it out of my lips or typing fingers. (and for those of you concerned that I will be cheating tomorrow and NOT going outside….already having a blog squirrelled away….never fear. Snowshoeing or walking will happen tomorrow. I just might not write more than a sentence about it. You will not die in boredom over another snowshoeing saga.)
Sometimes I feel like the storyteller in the famous tale One Thousand and One Nights. Do you all know the story? Here’s the synopsis: Some crazy Persian King (I think he’s crazy; you will too after you hear this!) discovers his wife’s infidelity and has her executed. Yes, you read that correctly. He then generalizes to judge all his new wives in a similar manner and executes them all the morning after their wedding night.
You are wondering, aren’t you, what this blog has to do with that? Well, one sly and crafty new wife realizes what’s going on and decides to entertain her new husband with a story. Just as the plot thickens and interest quickens, she announces that the rest of the story will be told the following evening. She thus keeps postponing her execution for 1001 days and by then he’s fallen in love with her. At least, I think that’s how the story ends, never having read it.
Sometimes I feel like all you dear readers troop over here day & after day, and I must find some sort of interesting tale to tell you so it wouldn’t have wasted your effort. But, thank goodness, it’s only for 365 days! And no one is threatening execution so far….
Making tracks....
P.S. Quiz time! What were those icicles called when they grow long enough to hit the ground? 
My friend Bertha leads us on a snowshoe hike
After my morning at work, I headed over to a friend’s house for a snowshoe hike. Temperature: 5 degrees. Blue and sunny skies. No fierce and biting wind. On an ordinary winter I might have called to cancel with excuses about the frigid temperature, but today that didn’t even seem an option.
Surprisingly, it wasn’t cold at all! Surprisingly, I was too hot. You don’t believe this, do you? But it’s the truth. I had dressed in too many layers of clothes. The better to get a good work-out, perhaps.
We hiked for a good hour. It’s much easier to do a “real” snowshoe that stretches for awhile if one hikes with friends. When you’re alone, you meander more. You stop. You look up. You look down. You peer around corners, looking for photo opportunities. If you’re a certain person I know (no names shall be mentioned here) you even sometimes find a place where a deer has bedded down. You settle in the deer-resting place and then you look upwards and take pictures of the view the deer enjoyed. (I may steal this idea for a later blog, if I run out of other subjects to talk about….)
Today, we talked. We got caught up on our busy lives. We covered friends, family, health and at least twenty five other topics. We admired the woods. We expressed thanks that we lived in such a beautiful place. We pitied those who couldn’t be on a snowshoe hike like this in the lovely north woods. (I did not mention blog readers who so often express disbelief and pity that we live in such a cold clime, preferring instead their warm and toasty southern sun….)
Bertha and I have been friends for a long time. How many years now? Maybe 26 or 27. Years ago we hiked up in the Huron Mountains with husbands and our six month baby. We set up tents and enjoyed a beautiful night in the high hills overlooking Lake Superior. We were babes then, in our twenties and thought nothing of going on grand adventures. What I remember about that night is our son lost his pacifier from his position in the front pack where he was carried, and found his trusty thumb instead. He never wanted the pacifier again. Years of orthodontist bills probably related directly to this hike….
But I digress into the land of memory. Let’s stay in the present, shall we? It was a beautiful early February hike. Fortunately, Bertha had snowshoed the trails yesterday after our foot of new fluffy snow. If not, we would have worked much harder. I am grateful for her diligence in keeping up all those trails around her house.
I’ll close with this quirky little picture of a fence post from many years ago. And hope that many of you get an opportunity to snowshoe with a good friend sometime this winter!
Quirky old fence pole
Follow the meandering river (odd that it's not ice!)
OK, dear readers, this blog is for YOU. I spent all my time outdoors today thinking about you and feeling so much gratitude for your presence in my life.
First, thank you for reading this blog. You can’t imagine how it cheers me on to follow through on this 365 day commitment knowing that you’re interested. On those days when it’s 10 degrees (or -5 degrees, or even 30 degrees) and it’s time to head outside, I think of you. And open the door, and walk outside.
So as I snowshoed today through a foot of new snow–not an easy proposition, mind you–I thought about how interconnected we all are. How a single action liking reading someone’s blog can strengthen, cheer and delight. Just a simple action! We all make much more difference in the world than we can even imagine.
None of us “goes it alone”. We’re all dependent on each other; we’re inter-dependent. Family and friends and acquaintances and even strangers are dependent upon one another to help, nurture, support and love. One of my good friends recently said this on a comment in this blog:
I’ve been thinking lately, at least, that spiritual maturity isn’t about never being thrown, about needing less and less, but about recognizing more and more how much we rely upon the gifts of others and of the rest of creation for our very existence.
I really believe this so much. I feel so humble and grateful to realize that this blog (and my very existence) is so blessed by YOU and your gifts. Even if it’s just the simple gift of checking in, looking at a picture, saying hello, or spreading your goodwill. When one of us shares his or her gifts and time with another, then that person feels better, and the outward spread of contagious love grows.
Mr. John Donne (1572-1631) put it this way: “No man is an island.” I like that.
Like the leaves, the branches, the tree trunk and the roots, we’re interdependent. All of us are walking together in this life. We’re supporting each other the best we can.
No leaf is an "island"
I thank you for your presence, for the fact that you’re supporting this commitment. May you all be richly blessed!
The car at 6:45 a.m.
The first outdoor adventure that many of us face in snow country each day is often the most challenging. It’s still pitch black, it’s snowing fiercely, and our cars or trucks are frozen hunks of metal in the driveway. And they’re covered with snow and ice.
Before we can even contemplate going to work, school,or errand we must scrape the windshield and brush off the hood, windows and trunk. At least those of us without the convenience of garages or barns in which our vehicles sit dry and comfy throughout the long winter night must do these chores. We won’t be mentioning those folks again in this blog, as we’re terribly envious of them.
It’s almost a science, this art of scraping and brushing. First, one starts the car. If one is lucky (like I have been since two Christmases ago!) one pushes the remote starter from the cozy house. The lights of your vehicle go on and the defroster begins its work of melting ice. However, don’t think we remote starter owners have it too cushy. Unless you’re willing to run your vehicle for 20-30 minutes at 10 degrees, one still needs to scrape and brush.
So you head out dressed as warmly as possible atop your work clothes. Start with the roof. Brush the four inches of snow off the upper strata initially. If you fail to do this, it will later fall on already-brushed areas requiring more work. Now brush the snow off the front window, side and back windows. Somewhere along the line, remove snow from the hood and trunk.
Depending on the day, your intense work begins at this point. Sometimes there’s only a dusting of ice on the window. Then it’s a breeze to scrape lightly and remove. However, on some mornings the ice is thick. The scraper barely penetrates. You must then start on the area where the defroster has begun its steadfast work of melting, and scrape upwards. Sometimes you must push with the strength of a lion. That’s when some of us wonder why we’re living in such a frigid climate, or why the garage can not be utilized for vehicle storage. (It’s usually full of welders, tractors, boats, trailers and other assorted manly projects.) Plus there’s the problem of deciding whose vehicle would be stored in the garage. You can be sure it would not be the owner of the car with the remote starter….
Scrape thoroughly! I cannot emphasize this enough. How many times have those of us lazily attempted to quickly finish the brushing and scraping (sometimes even blatantly neglecting to do the back window!) and later discovered the mistake of our negligence? We need those rear view windows. And if you can’t see out the front window, it’s like driving blind.
There is also the little problem associated with windshield wipers frozen to the window. If you don’t carefully free them up by hacking with the scraper, you can wreck a $ 60wiper arm. I should know; I’ve wrecked two already, and now diligently work at freeing them like a pro.
I took a picture out the front window this morning (driving nicely at 5 mph on a road that probably would see five vehicles all morning) so you could see the sideways blowing snow. Even with the flash, no good photo presented itself.
A tree festively decked with snow
Instead you can see the effects of the little snowstorm (nine to ten inches thus far) a few hours later. I took a walk down the road in the afternoon, enjoying the newly fallen snow. The whiteness makes everything look fresh and new. Branches hang heavy with the fluffy snow. I climbed up under this one to get an interesting angle:
Sweeping snow-laden branches
I finished up the time outdoors with a little shoveling. The driveway needs plowing again. Just another day in Snow Country, USA!
February 1st Sunrise
The wind howled outside our bedroom window this morning. It sounded like a freight train or mid-winter blizzard and made me want to cuddle deeper beneath the warm flannel sheets. It was a deceptive wind, for the temperature was above freezing. The energy had shifted the wind so it blew gustily from the south, bringing up warmer air from Wisconsin.
Bleary-eyed, I wandered by the kitchen window a little later. The sky appeared stained beautiful shades of orange and purple and pink. A photo opportunity! I threw on Grandma’s old snowmobile suit from the early 1970′s and my boots over jammies and drove down to the bay to get some dawn photos. However, my husband thinks the above beautiful shot may be his. After I returned to the house, he commandeered the camera and continued snapping pictures.
Our outdoors plan for the day involved driving way up in the “bush” to wrestle logs out of the snow for fun. We met two friends (one of whom is a logger who knew the “secret” of where the wood was located. Yes, he had permission to cut….) and off we drove.
It was snowing and cold. It got colder by the moment. That temperature above freezing plummeted faster than one could contemplate. We finally left the snowy paved highway and then proceeded to drive slowly up a logging road for ten miles. Ten miles does not take ten minutes in the woods. You drive about 10 mph (if you’re daring) and keep an eye peeled for logging trucks. These guys work hard, even on Sundays. You’d think all log truck drivers would be settled in front of the TV watching the Super Bowl but, nope, we started too early.
How many log trucks did we pass? How many log trucks threatened our truck, our road, our sanity? The official count is six loaded trucks and trailers. If you meet a log truck on a narrow back road, there’s no way both vehicles can comfortably pass. One vehicle (and it’s not the log truck) must carefully inch its way over to the edge. The edge of the road is covered in feet of snow, or conceals a drop-off, so it’s not a pretty meeting.
Fortunately, the Logging Gods were with us today. Whenever a log truck came careening down the road, a handy pull-off presented itself. Only once were we forced to back patiently up for far too long until we found a side road. The log truck drivers showed remarkable patience with us.
Of course we were driving the pride of the family’s fleet, a 1949 four wheel drive Studebaker pickup truck. My husband spent 14 years fixing up this baby to make it road worthy and last winter put it on the highway. He rarely drives it too far as it eats gasoline like candy. However, today we needed the trusty fellow to haul our logs.
And such fine logs they were! Hard maple. Premium hard maple. Barry said he’s never carried home a load of wood comprised completely of hard maple. Usually there’s other varieties tossed in like soft maple, ironwood, even a few poplar. Not today! We were grinning like kings and queens at the thought of next year’s warmth.
The day was not without challenges. Our friend smashed his finger and it wasn’t pretty. 
Our tailgate picnic, complete with sandwiches and fruit, lasted about nine minutes because the two women were near frozen into icicles by the relentless frigid wind–and so was the food!
Then we hit a deer on the way home. (It appeared out of nowhere, galloping fiercely out of a three foot snowbank too close to our truck.) No damage to the truck, but the deer was not so lucky. We said a prayer for the poor doe….
We’re now home safely complete with a truckload of prime firewood for next season. You can view our gleanings below:
Our trusty 1949 Studebaker loaded with wood & chainsaw
