We are almost into the third month of the new year already, and I have been away from the farm so much that even in the brief periods in between I have rarely been able to achieve the state of mind necessary for musings. Time spent travelling in South America (see the travel blog, ‘Every Day Is a Journey’) and with family in Germany at the beginning of the year, another wonderful Family Day weekend at the Ribbon Creek Hostel in the Kananaskis area with family and friends – life has been full and fulfilling.
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| Kananaskis area |
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| X-Country Skiing in Peter Lougheed Park |
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| Our annual Family Day hike to Troll Falls |
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| Mio needs a little rest |
Even though I was away for several weeks of the winter I
still appreciate how well it has treated us while I have been at home. We had
very few very cold days and a nice amount of snow: enough to make winter,
winter, yet not too much to give us a lot of problems. From time to time nightly
fog created a beautiful frosted landscape that often lasted for a few days,
transforming the humble poplar grove into something magic.
Around Christmas the snow was probably deepest, the
trees heavy with newly fallen snow that had come to rest on thickly frosted branches.
On the afternoon of Christmas Eve the snow glittered invitingly in the sun, and
our whole family, already assembled to celebrate Christmas Eve together later, went out for a
walk in the snow. This is much nicer in our treed fields about five miles from
home than along the road, so we followed Magnus’ lead and started our walk at
the edge of a piece of bush about thirty acres in size, a place I sometimes come to when
I want to spend time by myself in the company of trees.
It consists largely of white poplar, but there is a certain
amount of birch as well, which sets this field apart from all the others.
Shrubs like hazelnut, dogwood, alder are interspersed with the trees. Two big
multi-trunked birches in the centre provide a perfect place to meditate, but to
get there has always been a struggle: the undergrowth is thick, and thorny wild
rose and wild gooseberry shrubs tear at my clothes. A bit further yet is a
small area I call my ‘magic forest’. Here, the trees are only birch, some
slender and still wearing their reddish brown adolescent bark, others joining
filigree branches high up, others yet hollow and decayed, so that a slight push
will send them tumbling to the ground. Here one can find wild blueberries and
red currants in late summer, ferns – a rarity in our area – and the furry silvery leaves of Labrador
tea. In the spring, a swamp surrounds this little piece of land almost all the
way around like a moat, and marsh marigolds grow in abundance.
This is where we were headed in the brilliant sunshine on
Christmas Eve, snow crunching under our feet, our breath forming little clouds
in the crisp winter air. There is little in the way of a discernible path
except a cut line on the south side of the field to facilitate the building of a
fence many years ago; it ends in the open field on the west side of the bush. A
short distance along this cut line Magnus, in the lead with Pippa on the sled,
turned off to the right. It took me a moment to realize that what I was looking
at now was a trail leading into the trees. “This is our Christmas present for
you,” he said. Overwhelmed, I followed my sons on the winding trail, my joy
increasing with every bend.
There were more birches – my favourite trees here
in my chosen home, the parkland of Alberta – than I had ever imagined, among other, smaller ones a
venerable two-trunk Mother Birch with tight curls of dry bark on one trunk and
a series of white tree fungi climbing, stair like, up the other.
How did this
present come to be? Earlier this winter, when we were away in South America, a
small area at the edge of the bush had been cleared to be added to the field
surrounding it. While the shredder was working, Magnus got the idea to have him
clear the path through the forest for me. He walked ahead of the machine,
marking the trail by tying ribbons to branches, avoiding bigger trees – and the
result was my Christmas present.
As it happens when walking winding trails among trees
compared to straight ones in open fields this seems like a long walk, but
could probably be done in ten or fifteen minutes. I see no reason, however, to
walk here in haste – it will be my place for restoration from now on. What a wonderful present - thank you, my children!
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| Full Snow Moon rising, February 22
Our next adventure is waiting already: on Wednesday we will fly to Phoenix, where we'll meet up with German friends and travel in Arizona and California for two weeks. As usual I will try to keep my travel blog updated. We have a lot of interesting stops along the way. Here is the link to the travel blog:
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