Knee Deep

We're comfortably settled into March, which means that temperatures should be warmer, snowfalls less frequent and newly-sprouted greenery more apparent. None of this has happened yet this year -at least not for long.

This past weekend brought our biggest snowstorm of the season. It began rather timidly on Friday afternoon, hesitating occasionally, deceiving us to trust that it might have spent its burden and moved on. We knew better though. We'd been listening to various news stations and weather channels, all which told us that the brunt of the storm would lurk for a few hours and then swoop in overnight. We took advantage of the lull and wandered around the local pathways at night.

This shadow on the pathway caught my eye and my curiosity.

Since there are several light sources along the route, it took us a moment to determine where the actual leaf was. Looking up we found the single leaf clinging to its branch.

Two days later, I was able to locate the same leaf in the light of day.

Once we were back in the warmth of home, the storm began in earnest. We awoke to several centimetres of the freshly-fallen fluff, and it continued to blow, swirl and accumulate throughout the day and into the following night. By the time it was over, we'd endured an additional thirty centimeters (12 inches). The task of shoveling our way out became more challenging as we struggled to find a place to toss it. The drifts and previously-shoveled snow had created banks that were taller than I am. We completed the task in several shifts.

Neighbours were out working away at their own driveways, stopping only to comment on what a persistent winter we've been having.

Snow drifts dwarfed the cars parked alongside them.

Our own driveway was a challenge. Just how high can we possibly toss this stuff?

By Sunday morning, the clouds had moved on, and the sunlight which reflected off of the drifts was intense. In the afternoon, I decided to take a walk in the park. Paths had scarcely been etched by previous travelers but it was enough to adequately allow passage. I snapped a few photos and headed to the warmth of home.

There's no doubt that this season has brought some wondrous beauty but now I'm becoming just a bit anxious for spring to arrive.

This park bench is a good measure of the snow's depth.

A thistle stands tall in spite of the recent blizzard.

So does this stem of Queen Anne's Lace.

Rabbit tracks were everywhere I looked. They seemed to be less defined because of the deep snow.

In a few days, I'll post some images that were taken on yesterday's excursion - one which caused plenty of snow to find its way inside my boots. Stay tuned!