In May 2011, after four years of life on McNutt's Island, we moved to Montreal. This blog remains, though, as a (sort of) daily record of our time on the island, and a winding path for anyone who would like to meander about among its magical places. For additional perspectives and insights I recommend Greg's book, Island Year: Finding Nova Scotia (2010), and my Bowl of Light (2012). I'll continue to post once in a while. If you do want to read this blog, one option would be to begin at the beginning of it (which is, as we all know, in blog-world, at the end), and read forward, concluding with the most recent entry. It's a journal, really, so it does makes more sense if you read it that way. But, you know, read it any way you like.

Thursday, January 1, 2009

Wind sculpting snow

Greg's post:

The wind is sculpting today’s snowy landscape.  Yesterday, the Baccaro Point weather station prepared us for 20 centimeters of snow, which to my American mind translates to something like a foot.  But as I look out my window this morning, the wind has made that prediction meaningless.  Across our front yard there is hardly any snow at all.  Just a dusting, some would say.  But looking out the back kitchen window, a snow bank blocks the view.  Behind the living room, the wind has sculpted an odd pinnacle standing alone, its slopes reminiscent of some far off and famous climber’s mountain.  Yet surrounding it is that mere dusting I mentioned before.  In the side yard, the wheel barrow stands in one-inch deep snow, while the ATV struggles to look over the bank that threatens to bury it.

Obviously, the wind is having fun today.  It plays with our assumptions. It mocks our pretentions.  It does what it wants to do, glancing whimsically back at us from time to time to make sure we are still watching from inside our  snow-lapped little house.