Well, there are treks, and there are trudges …
A trek, to me, is an adventure, whether I am heading down to the marina in Ecorse, or enjoying the nature nook at Council Point Park, or, maybe just tripping along Emmons Boulevard.
And, then there is “the trudge” … slogging through the rain, or the snow, to get to your destination.
There is no joy to be found in a trudge.
In fact, during the past two Winters, it seemed like my daily trudge outside encompassed trying hard not to land on my butt on the icy patches, dealing with the snow, snapping off those lethal-looking icicles and checking how large the bulbous-looking ice flow that was spewing out of my downspouts was that day. Oh yes – I would also run the car in the garage as it sometimes stayed in there for weeks at a time. So, it seemed like all the days ran together and my posts were merely a compilation that could be entitled “The Daily Trudge Report”.
We were so spoiled this Winter season though – up ‘til now that is. I personally think that Winter has worn out its welcome these past few weeks. It snowed again last night and just as finished shoveling this morning, the snowflakes started coming down fast and furiously, settling on my coat and on the concrete. It was a little disheartening to say the least.
But, not everyone feels the same way about the Winter. My boss for instance. He is up in Newberry, in the Upper Peninsula, for a few days on a mini vacation. He drove some 360 miles to stay with friends up in God’s Country. The snow up there is measured in feet, not inches, and the wilderness is so deep, that he had to drive 40 miles into town to call me to check for messages. He had been snowshoeing and was singing the praises of the snowy forest and the nature he had seen.
I told him that it sounded fun, though it was really difficult for me to get enthused about any kind of snow, no matter how pretty it was, or how much fun it was to meander deep into a heavily wooded area wearing contraptions that look like tennis rackets bound onto your feet. In the past, I’ve received his Christmas cards that show him smiling, with a snow-encrusted handlebar moustache, bright red cheeks and head and neck bundled up with a heavy wool cap and warm scarf. The backdrop for the pictures is usually exquisite.
To me, the only positive part of the recent spate of snowfalls has been exploring the various animal tracks in the backyard. In the newly fallen snow, the tracks are clearly visible, whether they are hops, steps or jumps. I saw delicate hops by our feathered friends on low bushes, or on the patio or window ledges where they seek refuge from the elements. Then, there were steps taken by squirrels as they walk around the backyard, searching for long-buried peanuts or other food treasures after they have had their fill of seeds from the birdfeeders. Finally, there is the long jump – those big hops by the rabbits in the yard. I caught sight of one in Marge’s yard yesterday and again today. Its soft brown fur was glistening with snow and there was no camouflage to help him remain hidden in the all-white landscape. He glanced at me, twitching his ears and was clearly scared. I talked to him softly, but in the blink of an eye he bounded off.
While you’ll never catch me giving a ringing endorsement to the Winter season, I knew today’s post needed to boast about the beauty of this bunny in the snow.
The photo credit today goes to my friend and neighbor Marge Aubin whose camera captured this furry fellow in her backyard, then she sent me the picture. We’re not sure it is the same bunny I saw and it is not worth splitting hares, er … hairs, over.