Within just a week, the snow I thought might never leave has melted away. Rain and above-freezing temperatures and longer days of sunlight conspired to end the tyranny of the ice.
Our lawn and gardens are now mostly revealed, in all their brownish glory. The mountain of snow on our deck that threatened to touch the porch roof is now just an icy hump, doomed to disappear by the weekend. Small patches of snow still lie slack in the crevices and corners, but they’re living on borrowed time.
So where did it all that until-lately-bound-up water go? Into the ground, downhill, and down to the river that runs in the valley just below our house.
Last night we heard the waterfall in the river rushing furiously. This morning… silence. They had closed the dam.
Gryfe and I went to investigate today.
Here’s the spot where the waterfall ought to be:
And the trees that are normally on the river bank, along the trail:
And the trail on the way down to the dam:
where Gryfe decided to take a little swim:
And see that little trail to the right of the bridge, leading down to the water? That’s normally the beach where we like to play in the summer. Check out those waves!
That’s the way I like my snow: melted, and rushing to the sea.