Predictions of snow flurries yesterday seemed unlikely as the day progressed. As we sat for our supper, the sky turned sepia and suddenly a squall blew up.
Very briefly there was a whirlwind of snow down in the field and trees across the valley trashed about.
Surfaces began to turn white.
To the north, there were ominous clouds, but when I walked to the front door, facing south, I was surprised to see a benign blue sky.
It is a fact that sometimes, if you don’t like the weather, you should turn around and look the other way!
Knowing that a heavy storm was expected, we had taken a ride, the day before and made an unexpected and delightful discovery.
While out and about, Grant had come upon a covered bridge that crosses the Hoosick river at nearby Buskirk.
Above the entrance it says “$25 fine for driving faster than you can walk”.
For pedestrians, there are windows all along so you can gaze out along the water.
We stopped in the deserted parking lot so I could take a picture. The temperature that day was bracing.
It did not deter us from exploring down by the river:
A recent thaw had been arrested leaving ice patches:
Ice is treacherous. It fascinates me.
Can you tell?
As we picked our way carefully toward the river, we heard sounds like gunshots. Ice breaking up.
It brought to mind the Antarctic explorers of the last century. Sir Ernest Shackleton’s book “South” tells the story of his 1914-17 expedition. What an epic.
If I was to choose a hero it would be him.
Robert Falcon Scott came to mind as well…
…which was for another reason.
His son, Sir Peter Scott was a conservationist.
He created the Wildfowl and Wetlands Trust in Britain which includes my favourite, Slimbridge which I mentioned in a recent post.
In my working life, I was sometimes called “Ducks!”
Quite appropriate, given my passion for wildfowl.
At the river we found a flock of geese enjoying the open water and sunshine. A pair of mergansers paddled off.
We had found ourselves a mini-wetland, somewhere we will be able to return. This day was special though, still and silent but for the clucking of the contented geese, the cracking ice, the rustling wind, a babbling brook.
The absence of human noise.