A week ago -- almost exactly seven days ago to the minute -- as I sat where I am right now doing the keyboard equivalent of scribbling out text, I noticed something moving from the corner of my eye. A quick glance out the window at snow-covered yard awash in cold, late afternoon sunshine. What I saw: a lynx. Like a scrappy-looking, tailless, overgrown housecat -- pale brown fur, tufted ears. Moving across the snow with surprising ease -- surprising considering the snow lay two to two and a half feet deep -- leaving shallow tracks. Came out of the windbreak of trees and lilac bushes that cluster off this end of the house, walked most of the way down the building, then veered over to jump to a shoveled path, down the driveway, across the road. Leaped up the embankment of plowed snow on the far side of the road and disappeared uphill through the trees.
Sightings and encounters with wildlife are common here. Hawks, owls, grouse, wild turkeys. Skunks, foxes, deer, the occasional bear. Neighbors have seen coyotes, fisher cats, moose. Now and then one hears rumors of catamount sightings up in the mountains. But I've never heard anyone talk about spotting a lynx. They're shy, they stay away from us and keep to their hunting territory. Could be the deep snow and the sustained intense cold made hunting hard and unproductive enough that there was no alternative to ranging out to more exposed places. The windbreak shelters lots of critters, would be a logical place for a predator to investigate.
Three days later, the temperature actually made it above freezing for a few hours, the day after that for even longer. Just those two days compacted the snow, produced the sound of snowmelt running through the house's rain gutters. Yesterday, the temperature began to rise again. Roads that have been covered with snow for two months suddenly began showing gravel and dirt. The snow blanketing the armor-like sheet of ice that appeared on the driveway here in early December disappeared, leaving my own private slipping and skidding rink in its place. Strong sunshine poured down earlier today, turning ice to slush, then to soggy dirt. Local roads, now snow free, began turning to mud.
January brought no thaw, just relentless cold. This change is a joy, even with the sunshine turning to overcast and rain. (Rain!) A haze from the massive snowmelt hangs in the air, growing more dense as rain falls. All snow on the roof of the small barn across the yard has slid off, producing a snowbank that goes halfway up the building's side.
The simple mention of the milder temperatures brings big smiles, sighs of relief from other folks. The north country deep winter thing gets oppressive and tiring. It gets one more narrowly focused, moving through the days one step at a time, one foot in front of the other.
A little let-up from all that is just fine with me.
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Early February (pre-thaw):
España, te echo de menos
rws 5:04 PM [+]
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