After a fall that has to have challenged the record books with its length and mild temperatures, we are finally getting a taste of winter. Here on Beaver Island, depending on whether you’re near the water or in the woods, north end of the island or south, In the last twenty-four hours, we’ve gotten between three and six inches of heavy snow.
Enough to cover the masses of fallen leaves that seem to narrow our already narrow roads, and lead the eye into the black and white landscape of the woods. Enough to cover the devastation there: sick, old and fallen trees; trees harvested for wood, trunks and treetops left behind; trees that were mercilessly shredded by the big machines, because they dared to grow under the electric lines. Now, all is softened by the snow.
Enough to insulate the cement slab that is the foundation of my house, and make my floors feel warm for the first time in weeks. I actually turned the thermostat down yesterday, from sixty-seven to sixty-three degrees. It felt sufficiently warm, now that the autumn winds aren’t swirling in around my ankles!
Enough to gratify all of those who have been wondering, “Will we have snow for Christmas?” It looks like yes, we will. The ground is cold now. This isn’t one of those fleeting snowfalls that disappears as soon as the sun shines; this is of stronger mettle. That fairy-tale landscape is here now, and I believe it will stick around for the holidays.