Waterlogged

Slush Bog

Where Fog & Clouds Meet

Geologic Forces at Work

Snow Dumped in Heaps from the Roof

Waterlogged Pink

Fluffy white snow compacts into winter bog in northern Idaho. It's swampy and soupy and incredibly heavy. I look into the bright southern sunlight and a field of snow blinds me momentarily. It's warm, and I'd expect the snow to melt, but it is so dense that it transforms into slush.

Fog and clouds mingle among the trees on the ridge behind Elmira Pond. Vapor visiting vapor. Even the air is saturated at 100% humidity, as if this place were a winter jungle. While the Midwest closes schools because of wind chill factors well below zero, we are shoveling slush in tee-shirts.

The snow slides off the roof in heaps so heavy it sounds like someone is slamming a door; a disconcerting sound in the middle of the night. Who's there? Then another heap sloughs off and we realize it's just the roof shedding more slush.

My big concern is the mass building up behind our chimney. Granted, the chimney is braced, but you can see how the wet snow is folding and pressing like some geological mass. My roof is practicing plate tectonics. The force that can move mountains might take my chimney.

As the sun dips west, I rejoice that it is after 4 p.m. The days are already getting longer. As if to celebrate, the setting sun illuminates the sodden sky vapors with coppery pink. Even the color looks waterlogged.

Linking up with Abracabadra for Wordless Wednesday. Photos by Charli Mills.

Red Flares

Red Flare at Elmira

Red Lights of an Accident

On HWY 95 by Elmira Schoolhouse

Traffic Down to One Lane

My Car Gathering More Snow in the Driveway

Barn Kitty Braves the Snow

And again it snows. A hay-truck hauling round bales slowly passes by my house, and I wonder if he's having trouble or if it's really that icy on the road.

Then flashing lights to the south appear. An ambulance from Sandpoint lumbers carefully toward Elmira. If there is an accident, the first-responders are responding with caution. The roads must be that icy.

I finish the dishes and notice that cars are stopping. My next chore is feeding the barn cat so I bundle up in my wool coat, scarf and rabbit fur bomber hat. I step into Todd's boots and trudge through the snow piling up once again.

Instead of the garage, I head to HWY 95. Elmira is lit up with a string of red road flares. The accident, hidden by lights, occurred in front of the Elmira School property. Many lights flash and I can see the reflective gear of responders.

Now there are two ambulances, two fire trucks and a slew of deputies. It's hard to judge the severity of an accident by the number of responders on the scene. Locals say that because the first-responders are volunteers who get paid for showing up, everyone shows up.

I watch a volunteer set up flares that glow red in the snow. Better that the community all shows up than not at all. If I needed rescuing, I'd prefer to be rescued here by Bonner and Boundary County residents. I remain hopeful that since no one is posting about the accident on the social media grapevine, that it is not serious.

My own car is getting dusted in, and Todd's shovel waits in a pile of snow for him to plow our drive once again. Each year we say we need a snow blower. Maybe one year we will get one. For now I hope that the cars on the road are safe, and I'm grateful Todd no longer has a long commute, especially in winter weather.

As I walk toward the garage, Bootsy greets me in the snow trail. Once in the garage I feed her, pour fresh water to replace her iced-over dish and I hold her to sing "kitty songs." Last month she let me pick her up and now she expects it.

Home, community and kindness. Even in the glare of accident flares we can practice what peace is made of.

Winter Wonderland of 2014

Winter once again grips Elmira Pond in a glorious winter wonderland. Ice cycles form like spun sugar and snow heaps in piles white as salt. Trains trundle past, trailing snow like dust and eagles wheel in a goose-less blue sky. Clouds stall at attention in the presence of a cold snap as if standing by for marching orders. Not a vapor breathes from the pond. Crisp. Clear. Cold.

Elmira Pond is frozen champagne.

From my Rocky Mountain tamarack bog in northern Idaho, I toast 2014 farewell. Thank you for another year in what is still paradise--a place of rest and hope. I open my arms to welcome the bold embrace of 2015 and I dare to say to all, dream big! It feels like a good batch of bubbly coming on!

A look at the final day of 2014 on Elmira Pond:

Here’s What’s on Top of My Christmas Tree – What’s on Yours?

A red star still clings to the Crow Tree outside. Crows are avoiding my gift of baubles. I even called to one in my most welcoming caw-caw voice. He responded in kind, caw-caw, but flew on past. I added ribbons. I think I need cracked corn.

Nonetheless, I'm also showing what tops my indoor tree, a wee fake thing in a plastic basket. I put up a few of the kids' ornaments--the crystal ballerina, the Christmas kitty, a wreath made of green-painted puzzle pieces. A tiger in a star tops all the mementos.

Last year my eldest went to India for an environmental journalism class and stayed at a tiger refuge. When she returned, I got a lovely scarf of apricot, market spices and the tiger ornament. He's a grand addition to the tree and deserves top billing.

Geoff Le Pard over at TanGental introduced me to the charity blog event. It's fun and it's a good cause! All you need to do is share what's on top of your tree, post it and pingback to the original post at Hughes Views & News. 

Crow Tree

Gifts for Crows

Last week I began paying attention to the murder of crows that shows up and leaves one by one. Busy, and not birds to linger, the crows are in constant motion as a group. One walks, one pecks at dried seed pods, another wings past. And so it goes.

Today, I've decorated a tree by the fence where the crows often gather as they pass through Elmira. It's my giving tree. They can nab any bauble that catches a crow's fancy. Will they leave me a gift in return?

Linking up with Abracabadra for Wordless Wednesday. Photos by Charli Mills

Murder on Elmira Pond

Attempted Murder Strolls Onto the Scene

The Arrival

Murder in Progress

Murder Most Black

Not as Innocent as Snow

Criminal Thoughts?

Or Misunderstood Birds?

Hiding Evidence?

Or Seeking It?

And the Murder Flies Off

Yes, a murder most fowl showed up on the grassy banks and icy shoreline of Elmira Pond. A black murder of crows against the winter cloak of white.

American crows become the prominent bird of winter, not just because they are so easy to spot, all black on white. They remain when all other birds have left.

Well, the migrators have left. No more Blue Heron to harass, no mother merganser with her tuft-headed brood, no more diving osprey.

With the seasonal guests gone from the shores of Elmira, the crows have moved in, roosting in the pines and plucking at any opportunities that remain.

Crows are both predators, as well as prey. They are bothersome in the spring when migrators are nesting because they like to eat eggs. A single crow can devour an entire nest as if it were a super-sized fast-food meal.

As scavengers, they will eat anything--deer roadkill, discarded crackers, frogs, fruit, snakes and field mice. They've been known to collect shiny things, too.

I've heard stories of crows hoarding all manner of things like a pack-rat. I've even heard tales that you can play a game with a crow and leave shiny objects as a gift and see if the crow gives you any in return.

It's a tempting game to set up. And winter would be the perfect time to play, while the migrators are away. I'll keep you posted on any results.

One thing that photography teaches me is to observe. When I first spotted this group, there was but one crow walking down my driveway. Then more and more showed up and as a group they plotted and winged their way to the pond.

Then flew off.

It was an interesting movement and the course of these photos took less than five minutes. What they were up to, I can't say. They committed no actual crime.

Murder is the name for a group of birds from the Corvidea family--crows, ravens, jays and magpies. It originates from folklore and superstition.

It is said that crows will gather to decide the capital fate of another. Perhaps this gathering was the Corvidea version of a murder trial.

Many superstitions about crows perpetuate because they are ominous black scavengers. Imagine more gruesome times when battlefields, prison towers or plague-ridden towns were full of Corvidea accompanying the dead.

No wonder murder most fowl seemed appropriate.

Today, however, we know that crows are highly intelligent and social birds. They mate for life and stay together in close-knit families. They will even help out strange crows and speak over 250 different calls!

I often hear a crow call and ponder what bird is making that noise in December and then a crow flies over. I'm always surprised when I learn a new crow call.

Scientists monitor crows for the impact of certain human diseases. For instance, crows are a huge indicator of West Nile Disease. Since 1999, 45 percent of American crows have succumbed to this disease.

In a sense, they do foretell.

Today, they are simply fun to welcome to the pond. And so photogenic with black wings beating against a white background.

I'm linking up this (wordy) post with Abracabadra for Wordless Wednesday. You can find beautiful and thought-provoking photos through her generous post.