A Silver Thaw at Meadow House

Starting early on Sunday the snow started falling. It quickly turned to freezing rain and this gently fell throughout the rest of the day and night, slowly coating all branches, blades of grass, every exposed surface in a smooth frozen icy coating. Everything was encased in ice. Kota and Rosie Lee took only a couple of steps out of the front door, then quickly turned and rushed back indoors. The whole day was spent curled up on the sofa with them, the fire blazing, and getting up only to fetch snacks or throw nuts and seeds out for the birds. I did this regularly, almost hourly, and was rewarded with a huge showing of the local flutterers. I didn't take any photos, simply wanting to just enjoy watching them, as did Kota and Rosie Lee. We had juncos, cardinals, blue jays, crows, nuthatches, sparrows, finches, wrens, but I didn't see any robins or grackles. The most surprising visitors were the woodpeckers who joined their peers on the ground, chowing down the seed and nuts as fast as possible. There were hairy woodpeckers, red bellied woodpeckers but my favorite was the pileated woodpecker, a huge bird, easily a foot long, or bigger, with an amazing bright scarlet mohawk hairdo. He wasn't a bully towards the others, in fact, was almost timid, but enjoyed his feast and returned a few times.
I didn't venture out during the day but early on Monday morning it soon became apparent that I'd have to work from home as the road was treacherous. I dutifully sat down with my laptop and caught up with art requests until sparkles started catching my eye. The sun was rising and turned the icy landscape into a fairy tale scene. work was forgotten, I grabbed my camera and headed outside.

I know ice storms cause a lot of damage and problems. I'm always worried about the weight of the ice damaging the trees; constantly alert for the brittle snap of breaking boughs. We have had our power lines brought down too. I'm never too concerned about this in the winter. I have the wood stove and if necessary, can put foodstuffs outside to keep them cold. But I do worry about the animals who can't feed or find water. I think our resident skunk has wised up to the birdseed because I've had a large planter knocked off the patio edge to the grass below and the seed by the back door is completely gone each morning, due to being vacuumed up by somebody, it seems. An odorous calling card is left some mornings also...
But this morning it was impossible to focus on the inflictions of the storm when I was surrounded by twinkling beauty, the ice everywhere glistening and glittering like diamonds. I even saw all colors of the spectrum glinting from a few trees but was unable to capture the colors with my camera. It was as if everything was made of glass. As I crested the hill and looked down on the sparkling fields and pond, I stood and marveled at the wonder of nature creating such a stunning landscape. It was so magical that I wouldn't have been surprised if a unicorn had pranced out, gleaming and flashing its magical mane. It really was a beautiful landscape, sometimes pure white, sometimes with a pink or pale yellow hue from the morning sun, and I felt very fortunate to be living among nature where I get to see these wonderful natural events without any human intervention, Mother Nature's painting in front of me unsullied and untouched. I just stood and stared, my hands thrust deep into my pockets, fingertips numb with the cold, and savored this pristine panorama as the sun's rays grew warmer on my face, then turned to trudge back to the house where a huge mug of tea and a pile of work were waiting.

Shawnee Springs a Bridge over Frozen Water

It was a lot warmer on Saturday, with temperatures reaching up into the 50's. The ice on the rivers and ponds was starting to thaw, gooses sat on the ice crusts as though hoping their combined weight would sink the frozen slabs to the bottom of the lake forever. Despite lots of wing flapping and honking, I'm afraid they failed.

I passed over the Shenandoah River, looking down at my favorite white sycamore trees lining the banks of a spot that I like to kayak around, and was amazed to see a lone kayaker out on the river. For one very brief moment, I was almost envious, even considering getting my own boat out of the barn and having a paddle the next day, but then I thought of putting my feet in that frigid water and instantly decided against it. I could wait until spring.
Today I was going to Winchester to explore a small park called Shawnee Springs Preserve. The link is to a PDF which does take a while to load.

The preserve is 14 acres and protects springs, wetland areas and a woodland. I set off along the trail, noticing that many tree trunks were wearing jackets of English ivy, a beautiful plant but deadly to its hosts. I passed a few large rectangular concrete tanks, filled with green algae, and discovered later that these were the remains of Winchester's first waterworks. Someone had posted an online review of this little park, lamenting the ugliness of the green stuff, but I liked it. The rest of nature here was sleeping, the dusty browns and greys of last year's foliage carpeting the ground, and here was this vibrant green mantle, looking so fresh and healthy, a hint of the new spring approaching.

Nature lovers were definitely encouraged to spend time here. Signs commending the hugging of trees were posted, although all had been vandalized by the local scum. There were also signs indicating yoga spots, where the ground had been cleared so folks could relax and meditate while surrounded by nature. I heard tinkling and was delighted to look up and see a wind chime hanging high above me.

The Town Run is a local spring that was diverted by a concrete canal away from a residential area to reduce flooding. I did read that the water isn't drinkable, so was very glad that I hadn't let my temptation get the better of me. It did look quite clear, in areas watercress was spreading across the surface, although despite a lot of searching I didn't see any sign of marine life. There was quite a lot of trash along the banks and also dumped in the woodland areas, leading me to wonder if they held clean up sessions here. It didn't take long to walk around the preserve, and it was nice to notice that despite the graffiti and trash, there were others who appreciated the wild space. Small piles of bird seed and corn had been deposited on the flat tops of fence posts for the local wildlife, a man sat on a bench enjoying his solitude in the fresh air, and a few folks were walking their dogs along the creek beds. I liked this little park and hoped others would learn to appreciate it more.

I spotted this hexagonal house on my way back through the town center. It was built in the 1870's and is actually on the National Register of Historic Places, because these 6 sided houses are actually rarer than their 8 sided octagonal counterparts. Designed this way to allow more light into the residence, I wouldn't have turned down a tour, but alas, it's not open to us prying public.
My next explore of the day was to find a bridge that I'd seen photos of, but not located an exact address for, apart from being on Rte 50 near Upperville. I drove along, looking through trees for the stone arches and turned down a couple of wrong roads.

But then I spotted it and was surprised to discover that there was actually a small park area that we were able to walk around. I had been expecting to only be able to photograph it across a field from the road. I was pleased I could stretch my legs again and walked over the bridge.

Goose Creek Bridge was constructed between 1802 and 1810, over 200ft long and a lot wider than I had expected, it's the only stone bridge in Virginia with 4 arches and was a major chokepoint during the Civil War, with the Confederates raining gun fire down on Union soldiers on the other side of the creek. A tollhouse was once here, collecting 3c for a horse and rider and 12c for a carriage. Once Rte 50 opened in 1957 the bridge closed but it's now cared for by the Civil War Trust and NOVA Parks. There's a short flower walk through the woods, but with there being no flowers today, I wanted to get down to the water. Sitting back on my heels I slid down the bank, holding my arms out for balance and was soon standing under the arches.

The stonework has been well restored, with new grouting and support trusses in place. Huge slabs of ice were snagged in fallen trees close by or resting on the banks. The ice this year has really been intriguing me, I've seen so many different formations and textures, all enticing me to get photos, as well as the beautiful winter colors of a fallen white sycamore tree.

Walking along the river bank, I had to keep sliding down embankments to get close to the water, sheets of ice with webs of filigree fingers gripping the banks as though struggling to hang on and avoid being swept downstream. Huge slabs, like giant ice cubes, were held in the branches of dead trees that had been carried down river and then been frozen in place. But the river was already melting and I guessed that within a few days the ice would be no more, leaving in its place rushing torrents of melted ice, freed and gushing to distant estuaries, and leaving inches of slippery mud on its banks. I fared pretty well with the mud. I had perfected my technique of sitting back on my heels and sliding down the mud slopes to get to the water's edge, my boots acting like skis. I'd used tree roots to pull myself back up the slick slopes and ended up walking back to the car with just one muddy palm, when I'd lost my balance for just a second while clambering up from the river.
I'll come back here in warmer months, the meadow has been planted with wildflowers and the woodland trails will be pretty. I drove home through back unpaved roads, not wanting to finish the day by driving on interstates or with speeding vehicles, and passed only some people walking dogs and a couple on horseback. A blissful and peaceful end to the day.

Waterfalls on Mount Weather

After visiting Blue Ridge Wildlife Center, I headed for the mountains to see if I could find another frozen waterfall. Every pond, river and creek was iced over or running with a thick layer of ice on top. It was another freezing cold day, the wind blowing hard, but inside Stanley, the day looked glorious, with the sun shining brightly and I drove on a steep unpaved road up to the clouds.

Even being in the middle of nowhere high up on Mount Weather, I was not surprised to see 2 cars parked near the trail. These days it gets harder and harder to really escape from society, but on these rarely used trails, I'm actually reassured to know someone else is near. Just in case.

After an uphill climb that ascended straight from the road, I crested the ridge, hanging on to my hat, and holding my scarf over my nose. It was so cold that it hurt my nostrils to breathe without protection. But a few minutes later the gales subsided as I went down and down on a narrow path, switching back and forth as I descended the hill while the winds roared above me, whipping the tree branches back and forth. It sounded a little scary but it was wonderful to be out here, walking briskly past mossy covered boulders, looking as though they were laid with emerald velvet table cloths. Bright green shards of wild onions poked up through the brown leaves that were dusted with a powdery white snow and the air was crisp and cold and deliciously earthy as I sucked it in.

I arrived down at the bottom and had to jump across a creek that was gushing with melted ice water. Across on the other bank was a huge rock, shrouded in shadows, and looking just like a huge toad walking down to the water. I leapt across the water and started climbing up to the waterfalls.

I actually preferred these falls to White Oak Canyon from last week. It was interesting that the middle falls were running yet on each side they were still frozen. I had this spectacular beauty all to myself so sat on a rock and watched for a while, as the sun dazzled through the trees on its way down to the horizon. The icicles sparkled and glittered, the rock faces shone with their thick ice coating of undulating smoothness. But I'd only sat for less than 10 minutes before I felt the frigid temperature drilling its way through my layers, and I had to stand again. Long shadows were being cast across the white ice, alternating between pale blue and pink. It was time to start back, I didn't want to be caught out here on my own and in the dark.

As I clambered back over some logs I looked up at the tall rock face in front of me, spotting a nest, high up, jutting out on an outcrop, possibly belonging to a red-tailed hawk, and wondered if it was for this year or left from last year. The rocks were slippery as I clambered back down, slipping more than a couple of times. I stopped to take a photo of these ice crystals that I kept passing or crunching on the path, marveling at their creation. They glittered and shone, looking like the glass from a broken windshield. I wished I had more time to examine them more thoroughly, there seemed to be an intricate pattern that nature had weaved across the dirt.

A panorama photo before I left. and then it was the climb back up to the summit, that wind had thankfully died down a little. It didn't take long to get back to the car, and I was grateful to sit inside with the heating on full blast, rubbing my hands and nose, before I set off for home.

Just a couple of minutes from my house and I came across this car crash. I sat patiently, glad it wasn't me in the mangled mess ahead, and sympathized with the poor persons involved, dealing with an accident situation in this freezing cold just before sunset. An emergency worker came up to me, advising me to turn back. Apparently the female driver had hit a utility pole, bringing down the line, but she was alive. I went back and around, along unpaved roads, and came across the gooses I'd seen a few weeks earlier, taking their routine waddle across to the field from their house. I sat and waited patiently for them too, counting my blessings, and very glad that I hadn't been in a rush to get home.