It's White World Out There Today.

It's snowing and blowing here today, often approaching whiteout conditions while last week I came upon this store in the midst of renovation.

A white world, 2017

Silence

It's something I look forward to every winter, the silence that falls with the snow. As the garden is covered with the first white blanket and all is reduced to black and white, so does the world of sound fade away. It's immense and heavy this silence as it presses upon my body.

Walking back through the garden on the way to the pond, 2016

Approaching the pond, still not frozen, 2016

Snowing, 2016

Across the pond, the gate to the woods, 2016

The pond beginning to freeze over, 2016

Waiting For Spring

I'm still waiting....spring can you hear me calling for you?

Still waiting, 2016

Longing For The Solstice

Today sunrise is 7:20 am, sunset is 4:08 pm;  December 21 can't come soon enough. I looked up from my book the other afternoon about 5 pm and was so grateful that J. had put up the outdoor lights. We've had snow, sleet and rain in successive waves over the past few days that the apple tree looks like it is covered in meringue . Looks delicious.

my view from the sofa, 2014

the horse chestnut, outside the front. 2014

April Snow

The other morning even Zoe, our dog, didn't want to go out side. It was back to the white world and deep freeze.  J. had put the screen door up and Zoe just stood there and stared.

Even Zoe can't believe what she sees

Later that morning I noticed that the snow was melting on the roof, sliding and folding down upon itself,  making wavelets of snow.

snow folds on the roof

And just before dinner, making a tour of the garden to see how the young shoots of the perennials had survived this latest assault, I wandered over to the pond; frozen solid, again. Even the split in the ice was trying to heal and the ice was a dark pewter gleam.

the self healing ice

Spring

According to what I've been reading spring starts today at 12:57 p.m. EST. Well this is the view out the studio door;  it will be a while before I get into the garden. It's an act of faith to believe that under that mound of snow, there is waiting, green, and growth and scent. 

studio looking south, March 19, 2014

pile of snow outside the studio, March 19, 2014

Mon Pays

"Mon pays ce n'est pas un pays, c'est l'hiver" is the first line of a wonderful song by Gilles Vigneault: it's really Québec's national anthem and roughly translates as my land is not a land, it's winter. And yesterday as the temperature warmed up to -10C, and the snow fell and crunched underfoot, I was able to open up some of the paths to the woods, stomping my way through the snow on my snowshoes.

To listen to Gilles Vigneault sing Mon pays ce n'est pas un pays, c'est l'hiver click here.

And all the lyrics to the song are here.

looking towards home

snowshoe tracks

beautiful snowy day

Another Blue Day

Woke up yesterday to snow and a blue world. Beautiful light and I am needing all the beautiful light there is, probably a lot of us are. And only another day to my favourite day of the year, the winter solstice. That's the true start of the new year for me. Every day more light.

branches wearing downy snow

St. Francis hiding behind the rhododendrons

a crab apple my Mum gave me looking as fine as she does in the spring wearing her halo of blossoms

An old pine who keeps loosing her head, still so beautiful

Looking over the roses, through the arch to my Mums crabapple

I love the shapes of the shrubs

The old apple trees at the front of the house

It's Snowing

Yea, this is what we saw when we opened the door last night to take Zoe for her walk. Quiet, snow covering everything, walking was easy again, good by shuffle, shuffle. The silence that only happens when it snows, the world holding her breath. I'm hoping for at least 10 cm / 4 inches. Yes, yes, yes I like this stuff, sure beats rain and freezing rain.

Well, that's more like it

Signs of Spring

I think Winter finally got my letter as today there are encouraging signs of spring. Patches of bare grass, a crocus flowering over the septic tank, my granny's snowdrops peeking out here and there, and perhaps most tender of all are the beech leaves beginning to dot the snow. The beech trees hold on to their leaves all winter providing a soft rust color to our white landscape and when the new buds are ready in the spring they push the old leaves off. Although I can't hear it, JB tells me the the sound of the beech's rustling leaves on winter walks is a treat.

Signs of Spring

Happy Skiers

Well there are a lot of happy skiers around Sutton this week. Apparently we just had the 5th biggest snowfall ever. Shall we say the weather has been interesting the last few days. Saturday I took the shots of the wonderful icicle; Sunday, the rain drops; yesterday we shovelled and shovelled, and today the snow is full of diamonds and pink light. The bottom photo shows my Richard Serra path, now over my head, while the photo beside it are the table and chairs outside the kitchen door. It could be a while before we sit there.    

Saturday and Sunday

Tuesday morning 

     

My Richard Serra Path

The great blizzard wasn't. Well we got snow but nothing really to brag about. I was hoping for more but you have to be quiet about these kind of wishes because a lot of friends have had it with winter. I wanted more so that the front path could become my "Richard Serra" sculpture. If I shovel carefully, and we get enough snow, the curving path becomes similar to his work. [The path is top right.]  The walls of snow of the path are as tall as me, so that walking it you are totally immersed in another world, and the shape, form and shadows are glorious. I need another foot of snow, meanwhile enjoy Serra's work.

Views Through The Old And New

JB and I and of course Zoe live in an old (1862) farmhouse that we bought 35 years ago. It's been a good house for us and we love it. The brick was made down the road and the glass for the windows was also made down the road and has lovely ripples and bubbles.  It had a summer kitchen attached to the back of the house, then a buggy barn attached to that and a cow barn attached to that. The summer kitchen became our kitchen and the barns became out studios. About 15 years ago we decided to rebuild our studios and they became a berm, with windows. The other morning when I got up there had been more snow and it was beautiful. I was struck again by the fact that the house is another layer of skin, the windows eyes to see out. The old windows have their mullion bars while the new are tall and thin and frame the tree trunks.

2 views

A Paler Shade of White

Love that song and love the deep quietness of this white world. Someone said we had 41 inches of snow, that swirled about the house and now lies deep on the ground. The world has become so still, now that the wind has died down, almost as if she is resting. Snow has piled up against the doors and windows and there has been a lot of shoveling to do. JB, my darling, shoveled a path from the studio to the parking area, making it easy for people to visit for the studio sale.

Snow against the windows

Snow on the Stone Walls

A dusting of snow these last 2 days so that the bones of the garden show even more. The tree trunks and branches etched against the gray skies, while the bits of color left in the garden glow. The pattern of the stone walls comes into prominence again. I love these stone walls and I keep building more every year. At this rate the land will be nothing more that stacks of stone, but there is something immensely pleasurable about building them. Time stops or is suspended and all there is is the placing of stone on stone.

Snow on the stone walls