A Sunday Afternoon Meander

Beyond the brambles a creek runs shadowed. Overhung by hemlock, cedar and fir, and bordered by rocks buried in moss, it trickles a boundary between our property and the neighbour’s. In summer it’s almost non-existent, but now, filled by days of rain, it tumbles its way down shallow slopes to reach the marsh. Rain spatters

“… ridged inch deep with pearl”

… . The snow had begun in the gloaming, And busily all the night Had been heaping field and highway With a silence deep and white. . Every pine and fir and hemlock Wore ermine too dear for an earl, And the poorest twig on the elm-tree Was ridged inch deep with pearl. . [James

“Every intricacy of twig…”

. There is nothing in the world more beautiful than the forest clothed to its very
hollows in snow.  It is the still ecstasy of nature, wherein every spray, every
blade of grass, every spire of reed, every intricacy of twig, is clad with radiance. [William Sharp] The earth is the Lord’s, and the fulness thereof; the

A Winter Wander, and Contest Winners

. Footsteps crunch a path through powdery snow and wisps of breath trail on frigid air. An abandoned bench mourns a friendlier season… a time when garden beds didn’t snooze beneath a layer of crystalline insulation, but beckoned with fragrance and colour. Now the bench serves only as a temporary resting spot for chickadees and

The Plot… er, the Snow, Thickens (There’s a Giveaway, too!)

Chilly west coasters are coping with the intrusion of an Arctic ridge of high pressure. It’s creating strong outflow winds and bringing frigid temperatures from the Interior of the province into our normally balmy south coast. As the front pushes towards the coast it’s meeting warmer Pacific onshore currents, producing… what else? More snow. Just