big flakes...

Big flakes. That's how we define wonder in Snowland. We've had some in recent days. But nothing to match the magical saturation of such as the calendar turned a page into a new year.

New Year's Eve began with innocent fun on the pond. In the morning, the neighborhood ice hockey youth scraped off the thin layer of nighttime icy snow from their rink on the south end. It was beautiful: nice and square, with two goals marking the victory spots. Next to us, young-family-on-the-pond were putting on their skates. For their youngest child -- this was obviously a first. She couldn't control her blades even while sitting on the edge of the dock. Adorable! Soon the family unit was gliding and sliding around the ice, their numbers extended by visiting relatives. Afternoon brought other skaters to the frozen surface. Traversing the full circle of the pond, they had to duck at the bridge each time they completed a lap. I'm wishing for stronger ankles.

Then the drama began. Late afternoon, Fr. C and I made a dash to Much-Larger-City for a little electronics run. The helpful employee asked if it was snowing yet. Hmmm...this took us by surprise. We laughed at the light dusting as we drove off to find a quick dinner before the 45 minute drive home.

But later, it was NOT a happy drive back to Wonderful W. Does it count as a blizzard if large fluffy flakes blow angrily into your windshield, negatively affecting crucial visibility? This Californian thinks so. The driver searched for signs of tracks from other vehicles (if you can actually follow the snow plow, so much the better). The state highway was nearly deserted, and rightly so. So were the parking lots of eating and drinking establishments in our town as we finally drove in. Those who had New Year's Eve plans obviously found themselves with a sudden change in such.


The storm persisted over the next few days. It snowed...and snowed...and snowed some more, eventually turning into one of those 'once in quite some years' kind of white beauty all around -- the effect my mother paid dear money for when she had our Christmas tree flocked each year: Fluffy snow with a kind of thick heaviness that defied gravity, everywhere you look. Though there was a plethora of huge fir trees with floppy branches weighed down by white glory, my gaze and heart (and camera) were transfixed by the sculptured bare trees which sported inches thick frosting on their branches. Even the power lines were impressively and inversely laden with inches of snow on top. A close up view from the dining room window gives the impression of 'air snow-tunneling' - an inverse, above-ground, white equivalent of what moles are doing in the dark underground.

Then the rains came and all melted -- creating flooding as overloaded streams and rivers join with others. Muddy. Dull. Cold. Not entirely unlike the central California Valley in the grip of winter -- including the flooding part, which is unlikely there, but struck them recently. As the waters generally recede here, some will not have an escape route and are preserved, freezing in place as we speak, until spring (or earlier if global warming shows its face).

As of Tuesday, some big flakes were sighted. The pond - which had completely thawed and was rippling like a summer lake with highs in the 50's - is freezing around the edges. Bring on the snow, ice, freezing temperatures. Please. Oh yes, and the pond ice hockey.

Been toying with this post for a while. Now, as I truly 'post', we have record-setting lows. I'm not sure if it is because it came on so suddenly. But, rather than the usual opaque, ice-cube look, the frozen pond looks dark, ominous...with a sheen that perhaps comes from being wind-scoured during its freeze. You can really sense a menacing depth which bears no actual connection to the innocence of this shallow and sweet place. If I had taken the pic below a bit earlier in the day, there would be no blue in it at all, but only black.