Gravenhurst in Winter’s Embrace
It’s one of those damp-cold days you hear oldtimers talk about, a seeping-in hurt that penetrates your bones. I’m told it differentiates us in climate from the Arctic, where it is a drier less invasive bitterness. All I know is that this latest trip out with our dog Bosko was damn cold, and my fingers are still numb. I’m kind of fumbling at the keyboard as I can’t feel any sensation in my fingertips. On my errands today I’ve already been cold, hot, chilled to the bone, too, too hot, even colder with ice forming in my beard. Now I’m feeling winter-saturated sitting at this computer keyboard. A Muskoka winter has always meant curious extremes and this year has been no exception.
A few weeks ago most people had given up on the normal fare of a Canadian winter striking us here in the hinterland. While I do appreciate the effects of global warming, I knew this was just a weather anomaly and a green period of extended autumn I’d seen before. As is usually the case, a Muskoka winter is can unleash severe conditions, whether it is short or longer is the subject of debate. A shorter winter can be brutal versus winter that arrives in ice late in November, and remains moderate until the first weeks of April. These have tended to be fewer in the last half of my lifetime than shorter, with profoundly harsh shorter-term winters. Even after only several weeks of what I would call tough winter weather, most around here have forgotten the dry spell at Christmas, and the growing grass of early January. As a number of sage individuals, with considerable credentials in winter survival used to tell me, a late winter is always more dramatic when it finally arrives than the long drawn out affair that commences shortly after Hallowe’en.
With numerous business interests between our home here in Gravenhurst and Bracebridge, I am in and out of vehicles for a good portion of the day. I get to see a lot of Muskoka nature on the drive in between the two centres, and on many occasions I can’t resist a stop at Muskoka Beach, to admire the snowfield and colorful fish huts sculpted into the drifts on Lake Muskoka. There are many places along the daily trail that I find amazingly beautiful this time of year particularly, including the cathedral maples further up the Beach Road, a short distance from the intersection with the narrow lane that connects to the Stephen’s Bay Road, and eventually the Muskoka River. The scene is tranquilizing all seasons of the year, but in February it is quite enchanting, the boughs laden low overhead by newly fallen snow, the cathedral effect quite impressive.
I might argue with my wife Suzanne that it is a great hardship having all this running around to do, but truth be known, I can hardly call these sightseeing ventures “work,” by traditional definition. I arrive back home with many new observations that are soon to wind up in columns like these, some for publications in Southern Ontario where readers seem eager to know Muskoka’s seasonal happenings. In the summer season, Suzanne and I stop frequently to snatch some “actuality,” having a picnic while watching a windswept meadow flower-forth in afternoon sunglow. It’s a little chilly for dawdling this time of the year but an experience I wouldn’t sacrifice by reducing travel miles and opportunity. I have watched storms thundering across the farm fields in early summer, and been ecstatic to come upon wild turkeys grazing on the hillsides during the chilled mornings of late August. I’ve had the pleasure of chasing rainbows to their end in early September, and been thrilled to see the painted leaves of mid-autumn. So far this winter, I’ve driven through snowstorms and freezing rain, coming upon an almost concealed roadway at times, and then as suddenly and profoundly as the blizzard roared across my path, be amazed at the other end to find a tranquil sunlit scene as if a world apart. I have driven on evenings illuminated by a full moon, and been impressed beyond words, to find the country farmstead bathed in milky white from horizon to horizon, the grey plume of smoke from the chimney rising straight toward heaven. I have seen the snow covered cedars being shaken clear by the wind, and felt comfort watching the sunrise engage the crystal ice of the winter forest.
It’s true, of course, that I will find any excuse to explore this amazing District I call home. For work or pleasure, it’s always an experience, in this pleasant and invigorating embrace of nature; snowing but calm this very moment, as I prepare for the next road-trip to somewhere down the road.
Thanks for taking the time to read this blog submission. More travels to come.
Please visit my other blog www.thenatureofmuskoka.blogspot.com
It’s one of those damp-cold days you hear oldtimers talk about, a seeping-in hurt that penetrates your bones. I’m told it differentiates us in climate from the Arctic, where it is a drier less invasive bitterness. All I know is that this latest trip out with our dog Bosko was damn cold, and my fingers are still numb. I’m kind of fumbling at the keyboard as I can’t feel any sensation in my fingertips. On my errands today I’ve already been cold, hot, chilled to the bone, too, too hot, even colder with ice forming in my beard. Now I’m feeling winter-saturated sitting at this computer keyboard. A Muskoka winter has always meant curious extremes and this year has been no exception.
A few weeks ago most people had given up on the normal fare of a Canadian winter striking us here in the hinterland. While I do appreciate the effects of global warming, I knew this was just a weather anomaly and a green period of extended autumn I’d seen before. As is usually the case, a Muskoka winter is can unleash severe conditions, whether it is short or longer is the subject of debate. A shorter winter can be brutal versus winter that arrives in ice late in November, and remains moderate until the first weeks of April. These have tended to be fewer in the last half of my lifetime than shorter, with profoundly harsh shorter-term winters. Even after only several weeks of what I would call tough winter weather, most around here have forgotten the dry spell at Christmas, and the growing grass of early January. As a number of sage individuals, with considerable credentials in winter survival used to tell me, a late winter is always more dramatic when it finally arrives than the long drawn out affair that commences shortly after Hallowe’en.
With numerous business interests between our home here in Gravenhurst and Bracebridge, I am in and out of vehicles for a good portion of the day. I get to see a lot of Muskoka nature on the drive in between the two centres, and on many occasions I can’t resist a stop at Muskoka Beach, to admire the snowfield and colorful fish huts sculpted into the drifts on Lake Muskoka. There are many places along the daily trail that I find amazingly beautiful this time of year particularly, including the cathedral maples further up the Beach Road, a short distance from the intersection with the narrow lane that connects to the Stephen’s Bay Road, and eventually the Muskoka River. The scene is tranquilizing all seasons of the year, but in February it is quite enchanting, the boughs laden low overhead by newly fallen snow, the cathedral effect quite impressive.
I might argue with my wife Suzanne that it is a great hardship having all this running around to do, but truth be known, I can hardly call these sightseeing ventures “work,” by traditional definition. I arrive back home with many new observations that are soon to wind up in columns like these, some for publications in Southern Ontario where readers seem eager to know Muskoka’s seasonal happenings. In the summer season, Suzanne and I stop frequently to snatch some “actuality,” having a picnic while watching a windswept meadow flower-forth in afternoon sunglow. It’s a little chilly for dawdling this time of the year but an experience I wouldn’t sacrifice by reducing travel miles and opportunity. I have watched storms thundering across the farm fields in early summer, and been ecstatic to come upon wild turkeys grazing on the hillsides during the chilled mornings of late August. I’ve had the pleasure of chasing rainbows to their end in early September, and been thrilled to see the painted leaves of mid-autumn. So far this winter, I’ve driven through snowstorms and freezing rain, coming upon an almost concealed roadway at times, and then as suddenly and profoundly as the blizzard roared across my path, be amazed at the other end to find a tranquil sunlit scene as if a world apart. I have driven on evenings illuminated by a full moon, and been impressed beyond words, to find the country farmstead bathed in milky white from horizon to horizon, the grey plume of smoke from the chimney rising straight toward heaven. I have seen the snow covered cedars being shaken clear by the wind, and felt comfort watching the sunrise engage the crystal ice of the winter forest.
It’s true, of course, that I will find any excuse to explore this amazing District I call home. For work or pleasure, it’s always an experience, in this pleasant and invigorating embrace of nature; snowing but calm this very moment, as I prepare for the next road-trip to somewhere down the road.
Thanks for taking the time to read this blog submission. More travels to come.
Please visit my other blog www.thenatureofmuskoka.blogspot.com
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