The groundhog's message?

It’s been a long time since the last musings from the farm, due in large part to the fact that I didn’t spend much time here at home. More than two months ago I pondered why anyone might want to leave when it was so beautiful, but of course I knew quite well that winter consists of many kinds of beauty, not all of them fully appreciable, some of them made not to enjoy but to endure. 

I mentioned the fact that days were growing rapidly shorter, and that, at least, is no longer the case. For more than a month now we have slowly gained daylight, at first hardly noticeable and only in the evenings. Today the sun rose at 8:16 am (compared to its latest rising at 8:56 am) and will set at 5:22 pm (compared to 4:14 pm, its earliest setting time) – an hour and forty- eight minutes more light today. It is quite noticeable, too, especially when we go for our late afternoon walks with Leo. 

Today, however, it doesn’t matter much how much longer the days are. After a couple of beautiful clear nights we will not see the still almost-full moon with Jupiter close by its side and Venus almost as bright in the west in the early hours of the evening: there is a snowfall warning in effect! 

Already the field across the road is hidden by the impenetrable veil of falling snow. Two magpies just hurled by my window, their clumsy flight pattern even more out of control than usual, and all afternoon chickadees, nuthatches and the two resident juncos have been clustered around the bird feeder, maybe to stock up for the storm. No, winter is not yet over, even if we spent a good part of it away. 

After our four-week South America adventure we came home in time for Christmas, but left soon after New Year’s for a two-week trip to Germany to see family and friends. During our first absence winter had already paid an extended visit, dumping a large amount of snow and bringing bitter cold temperatures in November. January, however, showed itself from its best side, with lots of sunshine and temperatures warm enough to reduce the snow pack from about 40 to about 20 cm. 

The first cold spell must have been hard on the animals, as a survey of the garden showed me last week. To my dismay I found that one of the sour cherry trees had been quite severely damaged by a porcupine. It’s not that I begrudge it its food, but couldn’t it have chosen one of the willow bushes a few metres further away at the edge of the poplar grove? They, after all, are the traditional porcupine diet, and there is certainly no shortage of them. The rabbits, too, still seem to be around, judging by the tracks running from bush to garden, though they seem to be happy with the leftovers from Carl’s apple wine making, a small pile of leached apples he dumped in the middle of the garden. There are the usual mouse tracks, of course, ending suddenly in holes. They will have to look out this year: I watched a weasel hunt right across from the deck along the bush the other day, well camouflaged in its pure white coat. Only its movement and the black tip of its tail alerted me to its presence. What a nice surprise!

The wind has died down somewhat, so I’ll put on my lined coveralls and felt-lined boots and take Leo for his walk while it is still light enough to do that. I wonder how much snow this snowfall warning will bring us …

An hour later. My idea that the wind had died down a bit was an illusion: wherever there is no protection from the east it is bitter cold. So far about ten centimetres of new snow have fallen since around noon, and there is no indication that it will abate anytime soon.