ESCAPE INTO THE WOODS -

THE BOUGHS ARE A BEAUTIFUL BURDEN OF ICE AND NEW SNOW, AND HANG DOWN IN A SUCCESSION OF ARCHES, AS IF FROM SOME WONDERLAND SET, FOR THEATRE OR THE BALLET. THEY ACTUALLY IMPEDE PASSAGE ALONG THE PATH TO THE BOG, AND I GENTLY SHAKE THEM FREE OF THE SNOW BURDEN. WHAT A TRANQUIL PLACE THIS IS…..FROM THE NEAR THUNDEROUS ACTIVITIES THIS MORNING. ALL THE HEAVY, "ALL BELLS AND WHISTLES" REMOVAL GEAR, IS BEING EMPLOYED, AND EVEN THOUGH A SMALL AMOUNT OF SNOW FELL OVER-NIGHT, THERE IS AN OVER-ZEALOUS, MANIC NEED TO CLEAN IT ALL UP…..AS IF LIFE AND COMMERCE WOULD GRIND TO A HALT WITH THIS TINY AMOUNT OF NEW SNOW AFTER THE RECENT MELT. THERE ARE SOME WHO WOULD LIKE TO MELT IT ALL, IF THERE WAS SUCH A PRODUCT. I FEEL QUITE OUT OF PLACE, ENJOYING THIS SNOWY LANDSCAPE.

Yet with all the snow removal equipment, blowing and pummeling banks on top of banks, inside this snowy woodland, not even to the brink of The Bog, there is a precious solitude that is what winter is all about. As a population we endure the winter. Remove everso quickly, the snow that inconveniences our expectations for movement, and clear arteries, without having much appreciation at all, for the magnificent vista in front…..beside, and beyond. It is breathtaking. A scene from Narnia, when one might expect a team and sleigh to come bounding over the far hillside, and race along the trail that connects the highland, across the now icy lowland. Even the neighborhood kids, this morning, are dutifully employed to shovel and haul the weekly garbage to the curb. I'm not at all sure they have any real appreciation for the spectacular qualities of a Canadian winter…….upon a Muskoka lakeland. What a shame to think they will grow up having very little interest in the enchantments of nature, right in front of them. Do they have appreciation for nature at all…..except disdain for its frequent inconveniences?

This is a splendid solitude. I can only hear the slight roar and bumping of a township plow, and the minor wheeze of a snowblower somewhere down the road. This is a very forgiving place, for artists and poets, and those not adverse to a little magic in their lives. Pity there are so few to celebrate the winter season, as it has landed here this morning.