This week as I write this, there’s currently a white out. I can’t see my neighbors’ houses. The winds have been gusting up all night long. I’ve heard them pummeling our house in the forty mile an hour range or perhaps more. The past few days of forty degrees and sunshine have been a boost to my winter mindset and morale. Chipping ice and watching water drain away and snow melt in my tee shirt tends to do that.
Now we’re getting some snow to fill in the ruts and build back up the base for skiing and hopefully keep the snowmobile trails running. Winter isn’t over and it will be interesting to see how the Northland recovers from the melt. My son tells me there’s not much snow left in the cities and it is currently raining down there.
I saw some green grass again and that, with the sunshine, was enough to get me into future spring dreaming.
I was instantly reminded of one of the elements that makes me enjoy the PBS television show, “All Creatures Great and Small” about veterinarian James Herriot’s life, work and book series. The landscape and country itself is a plot device and character in itself. Green.
The terraced farmland that embraces the town is groomed by sheep, local cattle and goats, not to mention Shire Horses and regular horse stock.
In the series, the snow is sparse and mostly limited to one Christmas episode a season. The green, however, is prevalent every time the camera lens opens to the outdoors. Love that green.
I love this show because it stands alone as something that honors the relationships between animals, pets and humans and it is kind and beautiful in its treatment of both. There are great stories, lessons and hidden gems in each episode and going strong on its sixth season, it still holds my attention. I first read Herriot’s books as a teenager and have read them many times since. I introduced my kids to his writings through a book on tape called “Dog Stories.”
I like the show, because of the period- correct cars and clothing, tools, farmlife, food and the Christmastime traditions. I love the mix of large and small animal context. I love this show. It is nice to watch before going to bed. Just last Saturday, I found a hard cover edition at Gwen’s Chapman Street Books that I look forward to re-reading.
Waking up after these melt days and watching Mr. David Byrne walk across the hard pack snow that has crusted and frozen overnight after sitting in focus of the warm sun all day I noticed something interesting. The morning crust is just stable enough to support him as he skates across the yard on four feet. What I noticed, though, is the way that he walks.
Different from normal. He spreads his toes as wide as he can, turning his little dog paws into snowshoes to cover more surface. To keep him upright and above it all.
When this wind dies down and the snowflakes have settled, we’ll be looking at a new Ely. Every step we take will be on a new surface. Everywhere we look will be as white as if it had a fresh coat of paint. When we wake up tomorrow, it’ll be a clean slate. Sure, we’ll have to be careful navigating what lies underneath, the unseeable and the unknown, but after the chaos of the storm, the calm returns.
Perhaps the best part is that we’ve already had an early peek at the green that still lies beneath it all, just waiting. If we want to stay above the chaos and the slush that threatens to bring us down, we might have to spread our toes out, might have to branch out in our winter relationships and push through the whiteouts.
