Arctic Dogwalk

It's 10 degrees, 30 degrees below average for mid-February, and snowing outside. Time for a dog walk on the hiking trail. Well, why not? I've learned to dress in layers to keep warm. Gabbie and Tess, our two old english sheepdogs are ready to be outside in any weather. Off we go.

The snow is fine and powdery. It always seems to energize the dogs. Tess immediately starts running around, powder flying in the wind, like she has never seen snow before. The snow crunches underfoot. It is otherwise quiet. Is that because snow dampens noise or because people-activity slows in bad weather?

I stop at the footbridge for a photo of the dogs, fumbling with cold fingers to set it up. Gabbie decides to lie down in a "let me know when you are done" mood. Click, click. We cross over the foot bridge to the east side where the new trail is.



It may be cold, but it does not feel that way as we walk. Something about snow in the woods is just magical. A bird flits from a leafless spice bush. A chipmunk scurries around and under a log. The dogs stop to investigate. A woodpecker taps out morse code on a lifeless tree branch in the canopy overhead. Rabbit tracks cross the trail. There is the faintest whiff of a skunk.

On top of the ridge, the vista through the woods down the valley toward the water falls is fantastic. I try to capture it with my phone camera. Can't reproduce the beauty in a photographic image. We walk down off the ridge towards the bridge. Play time erupts. Both dogs are in a full fledged run-around, snow and leaves flying, complete with ankle-biting, and butt-in-the-air play mode. They fly, skidding as they go, across the snow-covered bridge and back. Surely one of them will fall into the creek.

Composure sets in, and we venture to the waterfall. It is frozen in a static icy array. Gabbie ambles off to make a solid waste deposit. Then we trudge up the hill and back to the house. I stop to pick up some firewood. Tess is running around yet again in huge circles - one last activity outburst for the road, as it were. Then back to home base.

Winter can be miserable and inconvenient at times. But on this day, all is well in a wintry Bittersweet Woods.

Change of seasons

The nice thing about living in the midwest is seeing the change of seasons. At least that is the response that we invoke when apologizing for the crummy cold, damp, gray portions of winter.

We are doing that change of season thing now, in October. Leaves are starting to drop. Firewood is piled up to record heights, thanks to 4 large tree blowdowns earlier in the summer. We've already enjoyed fires in the fireplace (that is the preferred location for fires). My favorite woods are locust and osage wood. They burn like coal - slowly with white hot coals and a low flame.

Soon most of the wildlife will be gone, or at least less obvious. Butterflies, birds, snakes, cicadas, crickets, hummingbirds, praying mantises (is that really the plural of mantis?, tree frogs, and other critters will vacate until spring. It will be quiet, except for the trickling stream, semi trucks on the interstate, and occasional winds whipping through the pine trees. Meanwhile, we'll recall our friendly (mostly) warm weather visitors with a few photos from this past summer. And look forward to seeing them again soon.









Click to enlarge and notice the spikes on the hind legs of this katydid - the spikes that produce the signature chirping/clicking sound.

But late fall and winter can be beautiful in its own way. Bright oranges, reds, and violet tones will blossom, then fade. Grays and browns will settle in. Evergreens stand out in their green or blue uniforms. Gabbie and Tess's white coats will be accented against the drab woods as they dart after deer.

It reminds me of the Mamas and Papas song California Dreamin, “all the leaves are brown,....and the sky is gray." Instead of California dreaming, we'll be dreaming of spring and summer which will come soon enough to Bittersweet Woods.