In November, I did what seemed like a reasonable thing for a Canadian to do: I asked for a new pair of snowshoes for Christmas. To be accurate, I told my husband I was ordering myself a new pair of snowshoes for him to give me for Christmas. Or for me to give myself. Because there was a really good sale. And after almost 25 years of marriage, choosing your own gift also seems like a reasonable thing to do.
When they arrived, I dutifully set them aside until Christmas day. Then I took them out of the box and showed everyone. Such lovely snowshoes, purple and grey to match my purple and grey winter boots.
And then…I waited. For snow.
It used to be that snowshoes, toboggans and the like unwrapped on Christmas morning in the Maritime provinces meant outdoor fun on Christmas afternoon. Or on Boxing Day. Or at least, at some point between Dec. 25 and New Year’s Day. No longer. Environment Canada says the odds of a white Christmas in mainland Nova Scotia have dropped to around 36%. While the calendar still technically welcomes winter on Dec. 21, for the first few weeks we’re more likely to have a rain storm (check) or two (check) or even temperatures reaching double-digits Celsius (check).
Finally this week we had a respectable snowfall, and I got to take the new snowshoes for a spin. Normally I would head for the woods behind our house, with our cat, Nate, following along. Like any smart cat, he lets me take the lead to break a path for him. We used to have our pick of trails to blaze, but major windstorms in the past several years felled more and more trees. Then came post-tropical storm Fiona last September, making the woods behind the house impassible on foot.
So, like any good Maritimer given the gift of new snowshoes, six inches of snow and a sunny day, I improvised and tramped around the yard. It wasn’t a forest adventure, but there were still delightful sights. The heavy, wet snowfall followed by a sharp drop in temperatures left snow formations perched in the branches of trees like a menagerie of sparkling little critters. I have dubbed these arboreal snow creatures ‘snowlings.’ I don’t know if that’s a real word, but it should be. I once found one that resembled an owl and its wee owlet. I like to think of them coming to life when we’re not watching. A bit of magic is good for the soul.
In a corner of the property there’s a section of tall, wild grass that we leave au naturel. Here, the snow settled in clumps resembling mounds of popcorn (to my imagination, anyway). Or maybe mountains of soapsuds. Or the aftermath of a pillow fight.
A male hairy woodpecker studiously perforating a tree trunk and assorted flitting chickadees provided the perfect soundtrack for my laps around the yard. The snowshoes felt great. The sunshine was a mental wellness balm. All in all, it was a satisfying outing. And not a moment too soon; more rain is on the way this weekend.