FIRST SNOW!

The island across from the cottage yesterday, just after the snow quit.

It snowed yesterday…the first real snow this time around. What the old folks would have referred to as a "sticking snow."

Heretofore the closest we'd come were a few flakes swirling about on northerly winds a time or two over the last couple of weeks. Never enough to scoop up a teaspoon full, let alone whiten the ground. 

But this one wasn't messing about—it began early, soon after daylight, and kept at it until mid-afternoon. Four or five inches worth. The sky stayed dim and sullen the whole day. 

Today, the sun is shining bright and the sky's a radiant azure blue. But numbingly cold—3˚F for last night's low and only 12˚F now, an hour before noon. Too cold too soon! Most years we never experience such arctic lows before mid-January.

Ahh, well…that's Ohio for you. And cold or not, the snow is lovely. 

The same island view, except made today with blue skies and sunshine!

      

A DUSTING OF SNOW…

According to local weather reports, it's snowing at this very moment practically everywhere but here along the river. I've not yet witnessed a single falling flake with my own eyes…and I've been looking. There is, however, a bit of snow on the ground, the lightest of dustings, just enough to add some white to the raked piles of sycamore leaves I hadn't gotten around to hauling to the mulch pile before I got sick. Still, I've seen plenty of frosts do a better job covering the ground with white.

As I write, the temperature stands at 27˚F, which is only marginally warmer than it was when I went out in the feeble dawn light to feed the loudmouthed ducks their scoops of cracked corn. Actually, it's the white ducks who cut such a rusty; the mallards are more polite, less demanding—though just are ready for breakfast.

The river looks wintery today, falling snow or not—greenish-blue, lots of grays, a pewter sky and all the leaning sycamores whiter than any icicle. There are baubles of ice in the shallows—bits and pieces formed on leaves and weed stems. Some mid-riffle sticks and bits of debris wear an icy overcoat. There are a few of what I call "ice bells" along the bank.

The birds are busy working the feeders, perhaps twenty species all told. A nice variety, though nothing unusual. I can count seven male cardinals sitting in the same small tree, as brilliant as a handful of rubies flung against the chilled pale backdrop of winter. Lovely.

The weather folks say there's a 40 percent chance of snow all day. I'd like to see a bit—the actuality rather than just the aftermath. My plans are to build a fire, finish decorating the Christmas tree, and catch up with some indoor chores. I'm still not completely over whatever I had, still fighting a persistent cough. Falling snow would finish the overall mood of a quite, snug, riverbank Monday rather nicely, don't you think?

WINTER GOLD

The morning snow was brief but intense—enough to practically cover the ground over the space of thirty minutes. Watching it come down, swirling in every direction, it was easy to expect more than just this fraction of an inch. Meager though the snow amount turned out, it was apparently sufficient to stir the birds. Scarcely had the first flake appeared before traffic at the various feeders tripled. A sudden hungry horde, all jostling and yattering like starving teenagers at a high-school cafeteria. Chickadees, titmice, juncos, nuthatches, a variety of sparrows, house finches, cardinals, a couple of wrens, and a profusion of woodpeckers including the paranoid pileated who flew in to snatch a few quick hammers at the suet cage before dashing back across the river. In other words, the usual morning line-up of suspects. Squirrels, too—five of ‘em, leaping, jumping, chasing each other around at breakneck speed, briefly startling the feathered guests working the hanging baskets of sunflower seeds, or shoving aside the ground feeders in order to nuzzle through the cracked corn like bushy-tailed pigs. This feeding frenzy had been going on for several minutes when the goldfinches arrived, carried in on a snowy gust like a handful of splendiferous confetti. Winter gold from a leaden sky. The goldfinches still wore their drab seasonal dress, of course—shades of olive-gold rather than their resplendent summer namesake hues of dazzling yellow. Which was fine by me. Gold that needs a polish is still valuable treasure. And this quick squadron of goldfinches in their muted raiment were nevertheless royalty. Besides, I’m not sure an Ohio winter watcher is prepared to witness birds as brilliant as marigolds. But my, oh my…how such breathtaking creatures would light up a dismal February morning!

A BURR-R-R-R DAY…HOORAY!

When I went out to scatter cracked corn for the ground-feeding birds this morning, the thermometer stood at the 2-degree mark. Barely any temperature at all… Okay, just kidding. I do know better. Zero or a couple of degrees either way on the scale may not be much numerically, but in practicality it represents plenty of cold. Burr-r-r-r-r! Yesterday’s snow had all but played out, with only a few flakes still coming down. Occasionally a puffy glop of snow would dislodge from a nearby limb and fall softly earthward, light and all but suspended, like a dusting of diamonds. To give the weather oracles their due, their predicted 3-5 inches was closer to the 5-6 which I measured around the cottage, and disappointingly short of the foot I’d hoped for and thought might be possible given the what the snow front began. Wishful thinking gone awry again. The river continues to freeze—adding feet to the shoreline ice shelf along the pools and runs, constricting the narrow artery of open water. In the riffle off the front of the cottage, some of the slower water spaces between the rocks are freezing up, which slows the water in ever larger spaces nearby until any open surface water finally disappears beneath a white-ice cap. That won’t happen for another day or two, though if this serious cold persists, it will occur sooner rather than later. This afternoon’s wind-chill is predicted to be minus-25, though the wind isn’t doing much yet. We’re actually somewhat protected here along the river, tucked below low hills to the west and east. Could be we’ll not feel the full force of this deep freeze wind-chill. A good day to hunker by the fire, grill a steak, sip some tea, read a book. Isn’t a snowy winter day grand!

FIRST REAL SNOW

Saturday was a day of overcast skies and almost constant flurries. Sometimes the flurries swirled and thickened to the point of trying to make you think they were serious…maybe even the leading edge of a blizzard. 

But mostly these were just a weather version of wannabe intimations.  

By the time dusk rolled around, however, we did have upwards of an inch on the ground—our first real snow cover of the season. 

And a pretty sight it was! 

December needs a mantel of snow to set the spirit right. Sunday was bright and gleaming—still just as cold, with ice crystals wafting in the air and sparkling like diamond dust. Birds crowded about the seed and suet feeders and the cracked corn scattered on the ground. In midafternoon, I heard—then saw—a white-throated sparrow, the first hereabouts for a while. 

Late in the day, as the sun was beginning to set, I snapped a shot of new ice which had formed on the river’s opposite bank. I liked the contrast and the reflected colors, subtle though they are, caused by the prismatic effect of the ice crystals and the water's rippling current. Water is unique in that we know it in three forms—liquid, solid, (ice), and gaseous (steam, mist or vapor). In winter, there are occasions when we can see all three at once. 

I’m still on the lookout for that particular shot. But I’m happy to see our first, ground-sticking snow.