Crazy weather little dog. We just drove through thick snow flurries to Eagle River. Now, ten minutes after leaving the trailhead, sunlight touches the ski trail through the old growth forest. The trees, freshly burdened with new, wet snow, start shedding their loads. I want to write that they sighed following the release but only silence accompanied the cascades of snow. Aki is in hog heaven—a place she defines as having snow soft enough to roll in but still able to support her weight. I’m pretty happy too on skis that move smoothly down the trail and the chance to glimpse blue sky through the forest canopy.
The trail takes us in and out of the forest and then onto a muskeg meadow spotted with haggard-looking spruce. Some of the trees are as bare a power poles. Long strands of goat’s beard lichen hang from the living ones. Snow clouds move in after we leave the meadow and whiten the little dog and I until we reach the car. Before leaving, I walk onto the Eagle River Bridge and spot of raven’s blackness soaring through a thick snow shower. Before the bird disappears into the riverside spruce, I snap two or three photos of it. But it doesn’t appear in any of the pictures that I uploaded onto my computer. That is no strange than the weather.