I think I can say (at last) that Spring has arrived near the Twin Cities. This being Minnesota, I won’t rule out the possibility of more snow. (In fact, it is in the forecast for Tuesday.) We do seem to have turned a corner, however.
For one thing, most of the snow has melted. When I last went snowshoeing, three weeks ago, there was more than 12 inches of snow on the ground. Now, most of it has melted, except where it has piled up along the edges of streets, driveways, and parking lots over the winter, or in places of deep shade. Even shady spots have had significant melting, with temperatures reaching the low 40s and a day of rain on Friday.
Rain! What a wonderful thing that was, to have rain instead of more snow.
I don’t usually mind snow so much, but I am tired of it and all that it entails: boots, gloves, hats, grit on the bottom of shoes and boots, snowpants for the kids. With the slightly warmer temperatures, followed by freezing at night, it also means ice. Since I’m the one who takes the dog out first thing in the morning (when it is still dark), I don’t like fumbling around in the dark when there is ice.
The dog has noticed the change in temperature, too. We have started our walks again, which means that she no longer wants to do her business in the yard. We’ve been to the neighborhood park a few times, and she thinks that we should be going there at least twice each day to do her business. She doesn’t seem to understand that there is a difference between walking to the park in the daylight, when I can see the ice, and heading there in the pitch black of 5:30 in the morning.
This morning, however, she let me sleep in until after 6:30, and by that time the sun was coming up. It was also relatively warm, at 20 degrees, so I agreed to walk her to the park. There was ice on the sidewalks, but I was able to avoid it and escape falling. Two years ago, an unseen patch of ice caused me to fall and sprain my ankle. I don’t want that to happen again.
Despite the cold temperature, it seemed like spring the moment I opened the door and stepped outside. The first sound I heard was of a red-winged blackbird singing its trilling song. I always think of that as one of the first signs of spring, and it was good to hear it. Other birds were flying about and calling, too. I love that we live near the Minnesota River Valley, an important flyway for migratory birds. I see and hear so many of them each spring.
It was nice to be able to walk again in the early morning (although it was chilly). With the deep snow and the cruel cold of this winter, I have hardly walked the dog at all. For her part, she has been unusually content to potty in the yard. In fact, it was so pleasant to feel the sun and listen to the birds, that the dog and I passed the park and continued on down the hill, dodging patches of ice. We came to a drainage pond, and while the dog sniffed an entire winter’s worth of smells, I watched nine mallard ducks circle about above the still-frozen surface of the pond. Last summer, I had watched two pairs of ducks raise their young on the pond. I couldn’t help wondering if these were the same two families. Just like last summer, they seemed to alternate between trying to drive each other off and flying peacefully together. One drake flew down to stand on the ice for several minutes before flying back up to rejoin the others in their circles.
The dog completed her morning duties, and we walked back up the hill, listening to the songbirds calling. I wish I could identify more of the calls. I enjoyed them and thought about how much it seemed like spring. It’s about time.
This afternoon, when temperatures reached into the 40s, I could no longer justify staying inside. The dog was not loth to take another walk, so we headed back down the hill. She pulled me right on past the park and headed back down to the drainage pond. I was surprised to see the surface completely melted by this time, and the ducks where paddling on the water, seemingly content. I wonder what they can find to eat so early in the season.
This afternoon, we saw many others drawn outside by the sunshine and comparatively warm temperatures. Several had dogs, too. We took a longer walk this time, and the dog was overjoyed to smell so many scents after a long winter of being inside. She didn’t hesitate to leave her own signs of spring. I’m sure the dogs who came after us will have left their own comments, too.
I was overjoyed to feel the sun. The breeze felt pleasant for a change, instead of frigid. It seemed like everyone I saw was smiling. We have needed spring.
Tomorrow the temperature is forecast to reach near 60 degrees. It won’t last, of course. Tuesday’s forecast is for 30s and snow showers, but there is hope. The ground feels slightly soft when I walk on it, so I know it is thawing. I hope that means that the tulips and daffodils will soon begin to sprout, and then the frogs will come out and begin to sing. Those will be sure signs of spring.
I love this season of rebirth, especially after a long, cold winter.
God is so good.
Month: March 2014
Last snowshoeing trip of the season
Three weeks ago, I went snowshoeing at the Minnesota Landscape Arboretum. I started this entry then, but I haven’t been able to finish it. Today truly feels like spring (at last), and I decided I’d better take the time to complete this essay before it no longer has any relevancy.
March temperatures have finally arrived. With a few days above freezing, the snow is starting to degrade. I took advantage of a still-below-freezing morning Saturday to make what I hope is my final snowshoeing trip of the winter at the Minnesota Landscape Arboretum.
It was still chilly when I set out, only 20 degrees Fahrenheit, which is actually warmer than any of my other trips this year. I left my heavy gloves at home in favor of thin, knitted ones, since my hands usually grow so warm that I have to remove my heavy gloves. Initially, this didn’t seem like a good idea. The first part of the trail passes down a hill in deep shade, and my hands grew very cold. By the time I climbed the first high hill, however, I was warming up. I followed my typical route of up the hills, skirting the prairie, and circling down to head to the wildflower garden and arbor vitae collection.
I had thought to see more people on a Saturday morning, when temperatures were forecast for the 20s (instead of the teens), but I saw only one other woman snowshoeing for the first mile or so. I had intended to head for the prairie loop first, but when I saw she was headed that way, I chose the other direction to allow each of us our solitude. I actually saw more people walking on the Three-Mile Drive than I saw snowshoeing.
It was a beautiful morning. The sun is so much higher in the sky now, and the sky is a much brighter blue. Were it not for the deep snow, it might feel and look more like spring. The sun is working on the snow. Parts of the trail were icy, where the snow had melted and frozen again.
The snow is still very deep, however, and as the sun and warmer temperatures work on it, it is becoming less solid in spots. I was glad for my poles, for some parts of the trail were slippery and unstable. I could see, too, where people had walked on the snowshoe trail—prints from boots and yak trax were clearly visible—and it was easy to tell where they stepped off the trail. Their prints sank deeply into the snow: more than 12 inches. There is still plenty of snow on the ground.
The birds and squirrels seemed glad of the warmer temperatures. I saw and heard more birds on this trip than I have on any of my others. A pair of downy woodpeckers, in particular, was far more intent on each other than on me. I came upon them flying around a grove of trees, and despite the crunch of my snowshoes on the late winter snow, they did not seem to notice me—or at least they hardly cared. One of them flew so close to me that I could hear the thrumming sound of its wingbeats. It landed on a branch only a few feet from me, watching the other bird, and only when I moved my arm a little to rest my pole, did it seem to notice me. The other woodpecker fluttered to a nearby branch, and without another look at me, the first one flew after it.
I saw evidence of a raptor, as well. I took a picture of what looks like squirrel fur, with a few drops of blood nearby, left smack in the middle of the trail. There were no other tracks around, so I doubt it was a fox that was the attacker. There also were no entrails, so either the raptor caught only the tail, and the squirrel escaped, or it carried it away to eat it elsewhere. Only a few feet farther down the trail, a fat squirrel was scampering between the trees. I couldn’t see its tail well enough to see if it was missing a tuft of fur.
I saw fewer deer tracks this time. Perhaps the deer have moved off elsewhere. It must have been a hard winter for them, what with the deep snow and cold temperatures. I wonder about the other birds and beasts that winter in the area. How hard was it on them?
It was a lovely day to be out, with the sun shining so brightly and the air crisp and fresh. I traveled 3 miles and found that endorphin rush again. To give you an idea of how many hills I climbed, my Fitbit One recorded that I climbed the equivalent of 50 flights of stairs. I did not have to worry about my hands or any part of me being cold for very long.
I will miss my snowshoeing when spring finally comes, but I will be glad when the snow melts and I can walk or run the Arboretum trails, my eyes refreshed with the green of growing things after this long winter of white and black.
Snowshoeing with my Son
I went snowshoeing again yesterday, and it will probably be the last time this winter. I have enjoyed my outings, but I really hope this thaw continues. I can wait until next December for more cold and snow. I haven’t finished writing an entry about yesterday’s trip, but I thought I’d post this one that I started a few weeks ago.
Of all my trips to the Minnesota Landscape Arboretum to snowshoe this winter, I only had company for one. My family declined to come with me, and I didn’t plan far enough in advance for friends to accompany me. I had a wonderful time on each visit, enjoying the scenery and the time outside, but some company would have been pleasant, too.
It has been such a cold winter, that it has been difficult to want to spend time outside. When the temperature has warmed into the teens above zero, I have jumped at the chance to be outside whenever possible. Work and family obligations don’t always permit this, and it also simply hasn’t warmed up that much that often this winter. I regret my December post about being due for a hard winter. God laughed at that one.
The forecast for today called for another teens above zero afternoon, so I made an effort to complete my chores and commitments as early as possible. When I announced to my husband that I wanted to go to the Arboretum again, he asked if I was intending to take our son. (Daughter was at a birthday party.) I said no, since son had resolutely declined all previous invitations, but after feeling the mother-guilt, I asked son to join me.
To my great surprise, he said yes. The reason for this became clear when he asked, “Can we go to Target after?” Target, of course, is the town’s source of all things toy and electronic. “Maybe,” I bargained. “There’s to be no whining, and no telling me you’re finished and ready to go home when we’ve barely started.” He agreed to these conditions, put down his electronics, and got ready to go. I was astonished but pleased, willing to reward him for accompanying me and being willing to try snowshoeing again.
We headed out, and he was in good spirits. The parking lot was full when we arrived, and there were other people renting snowshoes. I thought the trails might be crowded, but once we got on the trail, we quickly found ourselves alone in the snow-covered hills. There are a few options for starting out on the trail. I usually head downhill at first. To my surprise, Matthew found this so easy that he started to jog. I followed, and it felt good. We didn’t run for long. Breathless and laughing, we slowed to a walk, and I pointed out some squirrel tracks in the snow. After skirting a pond, the trail comes to a large hill. This is a challenging climb in snowshoes without poles, so I lent my poles to my son. He appreciated that, but I asked him to be careful with the poles so that he didn’t poke my eye out.
“Because then I wouldn’t be able to drive home and we’d be stuck,” I said.
Having recently studied the feast of St. Lucy in school, he had a ready comeback: “Maybe you’ll be like St. Lucy and still be able to see after I poke them out.”
“Let’s not try it,” I cautioned. He looked over his shoulder and grinned at me. I was glad to see him enjoying himself.
After the big hill, the trail leveled out and then we headed up another, more gradual hill. It’s a lot of climbing within a few minutes, and I wasn’t too surprised when he said he wanted to stop and head back. I said we had only been out for ten minutes, and we needed to go farther: a least a mile. He agreed.
We crested the hill and started down, circling around a section of prairie to a large oak. He wanted to rest on the snow-covered bench beneath it, but I encouraged him to keep going. We continued down the hill to the 3-Mile Drive that winds through the Arboretum. In the winter, it is closed to motor traffic, but it is plowed. We stomped across, our snowshoes clattering on the pavement, and I climbed the snow bank back onto the trail. He decided to cross the road a little farther away and try to snowshoe off the trail. Mistake.
After all of our snow this winter, it is very deep, and even with snowshoes, one sinks into it. He fell and couldn’t get the poles underneath him to help himself up. It looked like he was swimming in the snow, and I couldn’t help laughing. I thought he might get frustrated, but he seemed to find it as funny as I did. I took out my phone and snapped a picture.
Within minutes, he was up again and came back to the trail. Now we were near the wildlife garden: my favorite section of the Arboretum. We saw deer tracks crossing the trail and I pointed them out. He asked if we would see the deer. I said that I always see lots of tracks in the arbor vitae section, but I’ve never seen any deer.
“Snowshoeing isn’t very quiet,” I said. “They have plenty of time to run away when they hear us coming.”
After crossing a ravine on a snow-covered bridge, we worked our way to the wildflower garden. I pointed out the snow stained by what I think are red elderberries and marked by the tracks of many animals. The berries are bright red against the snow, and it is obvious that many birds and animals have been eating them. We traveled farther along the trail and came to another berry bush, along with a bird feeder. The animals have been feeding well here, which is something of a relief. It’s been such a hard winter that I am glad to know that at least some of them are finding food.
We walked farther into the garden, entering the arbor vitae collection. (Just as an aside, I really don’t care for arbor vitae in general, but the Arboretum has an impressive collection. They are well maintained and look beautiful in the snow.) The deer obviously like this part of the Arb. We could see many tracks and places where they have bedded down to sleep.
We also came across a large pile of deer scat in the trail. I told son what it was. “Really?” he asked, bending down to take a closer look, with all of the fascination of a nine-year-old boy or a wildlife biologist. “It looks like berries.”
“Don’t eat those berries,” I warned.
He studied the scat some more. “Why does it look like that?” he asked.
I hadn’t really thought about it before, so I shrugged. “It just comes out like that,” I offered, “like with rabbits.” He is familiar with that form of scat.
“Maybe they eat the same things?” he asked.
“Well, yes, I suppose so.”
He took another look at the pile of poop balls. “If I had a deer, I could use it as a bb gun,” he concluded, and he started to walk again.
I haven’t laughed so much in a long time.
I didn’t walk as far or as fast with my son as I have when I’ve trekked by myself at the Arb. I didn’t sweat through four layers of clothes and (according to my FitBit), climb the equivalent of 50 flights of stairs. But I had a great time with my son, and he had a good time, too.
When we finished, I asked him if he had enjoyed himself, and he said yes. “So, if I were to buy you some snowshoes, you’d come back with me and use them?” I asked.
“Sure,” he replied. “That would be fun.”
Yes, it would.
And then he had a cookie and hot cocoa at the café, and asked me if I was ready to go to Target, where he wanted to look at toys, fortunately one that was not electronic.
