Ta Da! Indeed

Hauling the machine out of her hole at last!

 

The cripple is tied to the big machine!

 

An old 'Magic Carpet' has been tied under the frozen track.

  

Underway! The YD and Shammy follow behind to make sure the tow doesn't come apart.

 

On land at last!  JG hitches the cripple to the Kubota.

 

Ta Da!

She's home at last.

Progress - Day 4

This is what the situation was before JG started work with a chisel and maul.

This is what he had accomplished by dark.  Look!  A snowmobile!  And he neither dropped any tools into the hole or fell in himself.  Tomorrow he figures we will get two old 'Magic Carpets' under it and try to tow it out with the big two man machine with two people on board.  If that won't work, we'll try the winch on the tractor from shore, but that will mean a lot of brush cutting to make a path.  Luckily, the YD and her dog are arriving tomorrow morning to help.

The Great Snowmobile Rescue....Day 3

It's finally out of the ice.  As you may note, the framework is sinking ever deeper into the muck underneath the ice.  And, for non snowmobilers, all the white stuff under the black part is ice.  Tomorrow's task is to chip some or all of that away so that the glob will be light enough to turn around (you can't haul a snowmobile backwards.)

Here's another shot, showing more of the muck from the bottom that splashed up when JG made the chainsaw cuts.  If you think the poor old machine looks bad, you should have seen JG.

The Continuing Saga of the Sunk Snowmobile.

After I took this photo, JG cut all around the machine with a chainsaw.  We levered the back end up, but the ice on the front end is stuck to weeds and only half of it would come up.  JG is thinking some more.
Fun and games.

Embracing the Cold

We just got home from a delayed Christmas party and I couldn't help standing on the lane way and staring up at a sky full of icy pinpoint stars. The snow crunched most satisfyingly under my snowbooted feet and the wind sighed in the bare trees, stopped, sighed again. It was beautiful.., until my nice new rimless glasses fogged over.

Winter in eastern Ontario is a big presence. We had an ice storm on Boxing Day and day after day of snowfall to follow it. Although some of the ice came off the deciduous trees one sunny morning, the evergreens are still loaded, the piles of snow on each branch held in place by the ice base. Even fairly high wind has not shifted it. This means that travel along the trails through the bush involves snow down the neck, whippy branches in the face and a lot of dodging. But it is worth all the nuisance to see the woods draped in their winter décor, puffed with snow, looped over by ice, each small tree and bush a serrated pile of glistening snow. It is cold, sometimes windy, but wonderful.

This afternoon we drove the Kabota snow tracked vehicle through the bush roads to the marsh that runs along the back of our property. We did this because JG and the YD went snowmobiling the day before Christmas and broke through the ice on the marsh. Although her dad was leading and made it out okay, the YD hit the open patch he had made and sunk the back end of my (MY) snowmobile into about a foot of slush and open water. And there it froze hard. JG and I are now building a scaffold to hold the machine up while he cuts around it and frees it from the ice. We are taking discretion as the better part of valour and walking from the edge of the bush out to where the machine is stuck, on snowshoes and pulling our equipment on Little Stuff's toboggan, about half a kilometre. We got the scaffold up this afternoon, with a lot of pulling, tugging and chipping of ice, and attached the front and back of the snowmobile to it. Progress.

To work outside in this weather, you need to be dressed for it. I wear three layers, from long underwear up to a fine pair of snowboarding pants (loose and comfortable) that I bought many years ago. Wool socks and mukluks, a quilted vest under the coat, a coat with a funnel neck that you can zip up to your nose, quilted gloves, these are a few of the favourite clothes that make winter walking fun. I can do anything but bend over. I also have a fine pair of high tech snowshoes that weigh almost nothing. Walking makes the walker very warm, while standing around on the icy snow in the middle of an open marsh holding boards makes the worker very cold. Good boots are very necessary and they need to be kept waterproofed. Not that anything helps when you have to wade out of the marsh, breaking through in several places, and go home to tell your mother you sunk her snowmobile.

I have to confess, I love winter. Not the dirty, slushy city winter with arctic blasts funnelling between badly designed office towers, but the clean and lovely winter of the Canadian bush. I love the way the shadows fall blue and long through the trees and the way the eastern sky flushes lavender at sunset. I love seeing the tracks that the tiny mice and voles make skittering from safety to safety across a trail we have made. I love the gnome-like baby evergreens, piled with snow and the pattern iced birch branches make against a sullen sky. I love the clear, uncompromising light, the sparkle of ice crystals, the geometric designs of wind-whipped snowbanks. I even love a snowstorm, a time to shut down and curl up inside with a book while great dollops of the white stuff cut you off from the world.

I like it to be really cold most of the time, with the occasional warmer day to pack the snow down so that it will freeze into a walkable crust. Once that has come to pass, you can go anywhere with snowshoes, into the marshes and down the stream beds that would be a humming hell of mosquitoes in summer, following the track of a deer or beaver, camera thumping on your chest, warm and happy.

At least until my glasses fog up.

Winter Weekend, Chez G

This was going to be a thoughtful New Year's post, but then the ED sent me some photos and I can't let this one go by without sharing.

Little Stuff got skis for Christmas.  She and her parents came out from the city for New Year's Day (lamb and Crême Brûlé prepared by YD and yes it was amazing) and she tried out her skis on the laneway.  Which curves.  Daddy and Grama stationed themselves on the edge to take photos; Mummy was acting as a ski lift.  On one pass, Little Stuff hurtled by, missing Grama by milimetres. 

Grama was, understandably, a bit shook up. Because while Grama would recover from impact, she is not sure her Nikon would. (In fact, I am signalling a near miss to Daddy, but it surely is as funny a photo of me as I have ever seen.)

The YD's furry baby has discovered a world of little animals living under the snow.  She has not caught one yet, but not for lack of trying.

Grama's Newest Baby

As of tomorrow morning, I am looking after the YD's little darling.  And here she is.

Meet Shamwari, Shammy for short, a golden doodle.  A large furry baby of a dog, with a wistful face and a need to be close to her mistress at all times.  The YD goes to the washroom?  Shammy is trying to peer under the door.  The YD goes off in her car?  Shammy has one eye and one ear out for the car until the YD comes back.
However, in the meantime, if she cannot have her mistress, Grama is next best.  She settles down on her favourite piece of the living room carpet (as shown) and keeps the other eye and ear on me.  If I get up, she watches to see where I go.  The tail is tucked between her legs, the eyes even more wistful than usual.
As soon as she hears the car, up she pops, the tail goes up, and she heads for the door.
Tomorrow the YD has to go into the city and get a lot of paperwork done.  She is going to spend the night at her sister's house.  Shammy is staying here. I hope I can be an adequate substitute for the Beloved for a day and a half.
Wish me luck.

4:30 pm.
There is a new game, chez G.  It seems to be a version of hide and seek.  Mary opens front door and wants Shammy to come in.  Shammy runs around the house and hides.  Mary closes front door.  Shammy comes up onto porch.  Mary opens door.  Shammy runs around house and hides.  Mary opens back door.  Shammy runs around ............ do dogs giggle?  Because if so, this one is giggling.
She is now in the house, courtesy of JG.  Still giggling.

Winter Fun

We have had just a bit of an ice storm here; not like the big one but involving a lot of hoar frost, followed by rain followed by snow followed by ominous cracks as tree branches gave way under the weight.  Today we had a bit of thaw and a lot beautiful.
JG and the YD, accompanied by dog, went out to clear downed trees off the road.

I took photos.

We are now told that the temperature will drop, and more snow is expected.  Ah, life in Eastern Ontario.
But it sure is beautiful.

A Monday Mission Carol

It was the days of Christmas prep when sanity had fled,
The tree still leaned beside the porch, her husband sick in bed,
No icing made, no presents wrapped,
She mumbled on, while JG napped,
I'm not nearly done, Heavens!
Not nearly done!
Mary in extremis est.

A drive of half an hour to town to pick the turkey up,
And gather other foodstuffs in on which we need to sup.
The whipping cream, the aspic red,
The pickles, olives, special bread.
If this stuff isn't here, Chaos!
If stuff isn't here
Mary in canus' domus libet.

She needs to vacuum up the mud that's scattered in the hall,
She needs to wipe the kitchen floor, where many drips do fall.
There's beds to make, laundry to do,
The YD's coming, dog comes too.
Too much to do, Panic!
Too much to do.
Mary in flabellum est.


With apologies to Jean de Brebeuf

The Weather Report

Ahem? Hem, Hem, HEM? Excuse me! Weather gods? Ice Queen? You with the snowmaking machine up there? Would you please stop! STOP, already. We have almost 24" of snow on the ground. White Christmas is assured. It's okay. Enough! Please?

The upside of this sudden change from a grey, wet November to winter wonderland is that I now know that my new Ford has got what it takes. We drove to a Christmas party last night in almost whiteout conditions on the way there and enough snow on the hill through the village that they had barricades out and were directing traffic around the side roads. On the way home the road had only been ploughed half way along the county road and we had only a groove to follow through about 8" of new fall. By the time we got onto our own concession, we were down to one set of tracks and the last few hills were untouched. But the Ford purred right along, didn't slip, slide or refuse, even when we were scraping snow with the undercarriage. I am relieved, because I really trusted the Jeep's ability to let me shift to 4 high or 4 low and was most unsure about this automatic all-wheel drive. It works, though.


We have had two very grumpy wild turkeys sitting out on the feeding station all morning, doing a few desultory kicks through the snow and, it almost seemed, glaring at the house, waiting for us to put the corn out. As of now, the feeding station is recharged and I hope they will cheer up. We also had a most bemused deer wander through late yesterday afternoon and again this morning. I wonder if the local wildlife remembers from year to year that their grazing is all going to get covered by nasty cold white stuff or if it comes as a surprise each time. Once the snow is established and deep, the deer 'yard up', that is, gather in a sheltered location with browse, and wait out the winter as well as they can. This snowfall must be almost chest deep on the small ones, but it is light and fluffy still, so I figure they can push through it. Once there is a crust, that is much more difficult.

It is still snowing, hard. They are not listening to me up there.

There has been snow falling since early Tuesday morning, almost without stopping. I have just come back from helping JG get the snow cab onto the tractor and am expecting any moment to hear the rumbling of the augur as he clears out the laneway. It is quite a sight when the snow is this fluffy to see it pouring out the chute of the snowblower. We have a homemade snow shelter on the tractor that covers three sides and if the wind is wrong, the plume also blows back and covers JG from time to time. Talk about the abominable snowman! Two blue eyes in a walking, steaming pile of snow. I am not allowed to laugh.

We're supposed to be going to a Christmas party again tonight in a town about a 40 minute drive in good weather. If this doesn't stop soon, we may be looking at twice that long and another return requiring punching through unplowed roads.

However, JG is somewhat chuffed because he can now play full out with his new toy. We have a small Kubota two seat utility vehicle that we use to get around in the bush, lug wood, whatever. It has four wheel drive and four fat tires, but it does not do well in snow. So, this fall JG bought it a set of winter tracks. He spent three long cold days taking off the tires and fitting the tracks on, with the result shown in the photo here. This morning he got it out and clomped along on the unploughed trails around the house. And, like the Ford, it chugged right through. Lovely.

Who Let the Dogs Out?

I have an on-line acquaintance whose kindergarten aged daughter has a mordant fear of dogs. As her mother describes it, it is a phobic fear and the poor kidlet panics whenever she is in the presence of a dog. She is too young to have this intensity of fear addressed by a psychologist and therefore her mother cannot take her anywhere that the child might encounter dogs closely. No jaunts in the park, no trips to the market, no place where people might bring their pets. Of course, she will grow up and reach a cognitive level where this fear can be addressed, but in the meantime her mother has a lot of problems. She tried to take Miss M to see the Olympic torch run, but people had their dogs there and she had to leave. When the 'Leave Your Dog at Home' site went up, the mother was afraid that the little girl would not be able to tolerate going to the Santa Claus parade.

In my mind, dogs don't get a lot out of Santa Claus and it would not spoil a treat for them if they were left at home. Miss M, on the other hand, is at a perfect Santa Parade age.

When my husband was a little boy he was horribly afraid of dogs. He remembers walking home from somewhere with his sister and hiding behind her because of a dog. He clearly remembers the terror. When he was old enough, his parents got a puppy and he learned to overcome his fear. But even as an adult he still feels very uncomfortable around strange large dogs.

When my daughter was a toddler, she too began to evince fear of dogs. We got a puppy and she bonded with him enough that she now does not remember the fear. I remember the hassle, oh yes, I do. I had a two and a half year old toddler, a year old baby and a puppy and not enough arms to cope with all three of them at once. I clearly recall having the two kids in a pull sleigh that winter and the dog on a leash and hitting a patch of ice as I walked. Sleigh went one way, dog the other and I did a perfect cartoon rendition of feet going faster and faster and going no where. Thud! Not to mention the time the little ones let him escape one spring evening a few years later and he became a father. But all of the trouble and mess was worthwhile to prevent my little girl developing serious dog phobia.

I know that for some people, their dogs are their companions and support. That if you live alone, a pet is a lifeline. I have a daughter who has a dog that she has named 'Friend' in Shona. She takes her dog a lot of places with her and loves her very dearly. It would probably never occur to her that her shy, sweet-faced, mostly well-behaved pet could evoke terror in a child just by running into the same park with her. But I remember her sister's terror and I have seen the evidence of a similar long-ago terror in my husband.

There was a big hassle about dogs running loose in parks reported on the radio not long ago. And a pet owner was interviewed saying that it was inhumane not to allow dogs to run sometimes. That dogs need to run and play. And I think she was right. But there are a fair number of kids out there, like Miss M and my husband, for whom the dog's freedom creates terror. And that's not humane either.

There's no easy answer to this one, for me. Do we have enough parks to split them so that some are for dogs and some for children? Even children who love dogs should not be playing on ground that dogs have shit on, however carefully the owner scooped the poop. In Barcelona, Spain, they have dog runs set aside -- children are not forbidden, but the dogs come first. In all my exploration of the place I did not find one play area for children where dogs were forbidden and as I was minding my three year old granddaughter, I was most persistently looking for children's play areas. I was in a big shopping mall in France some years ago where dogs were allowed and left deposits on the sidewalks, unchallenged. I question the priority setting, I really do.

Both children and dogs can be pestiferous little monsters and people like me, accompanied by neither, can be heartily sick of both. My rule would be to keep a leash on the whole whining, blundering lot of them, frankly. Kids need company manners. And dogs do not belong at a Santa Claus parade.