Nearly a ton of snow prepares to slide off the garage roof

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

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

Simply melting

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