Maureen Bush

Snow In The Rockies

We drove to Banff to hike and have lunch out (at Coyotes, our favorite). The mountains were stunning, deep in white with every angle emphasized by snow. We watched light play across the mountains, as clouds and mist settled low and then cleared. The snow vanished as we drove home in what seemed more like a September scene, the foothills golden and the clear blue sky huge above us.

Maureen

Wee Crocus

We still have piles of snow (how is that possible?) but plants are bravely venturing up, first snowdrops, and now some tiny crocus. Small blue scilla are almost open, and daffodil buds are fattening. So this weekend I’ll pull out some garden furniture, and start cleaning out the flower beds. Perhaps the snow will be so embarrassed it will simply leave.

Maureen

How can there be more snow?

In this land of inconsistent snow cover, a white Christmas one year in three, and (until recently) a side-street snow plowing policy of “let the Chinook winds melt the snow”, we’ve had thigh-deep piles most of the winter. They melt, it snows again, and we have new deep piles. Finally, the snow was melting for good, we thought, finally allowing the first green shoots to poke their noses out of the garden. Then it snowed again. We’re back to thigh-high piles, and aching arms from throwing the snow so high.

The good news is it’s wet enough for snow balls (a rare treat here). My daughters, teenage and young adult, dug out a fort each behind the drifts along the front sidewalk. Now they’re flinging snowballs at each other.

Maureen

Deep in Snow

Winter has started with a great shebang here in Calgary. We had a lovely long fall, and then a winter storm hit. We’re now deep in cold and snow.

Calgary typically has a white Christmas one year in three, and the snow-plowing policy for side streets has always been, “Wait for the next Chinook to melt the snow.”

But for the last several years we’ve had a lot a snow, and a snow plowing crisis (as we’ve cleared the roads with the bottom of our cars).

I just shoveled, again, and it’s beautiful out. No wind, a bit of sun struggling through the haze, and the world is sparkling white and silent.

Maureen

Storm Mountain

We spent two nights at Storm Mountain Lodge, near Castle Mountain, in Banff National Park. Sunday night – a huge thunderstorm, rain hammering the metal cabin roof. We heard about a huge grizzly wandering through that morning, scattering the cleaning staff. Dinner was amazing, buffalo tenderloin and a great wine.

At breakfast, we overheard the waitress advising a couple about her favorite all-day hike. “Do you have bear spray?” she asked. They didn’t, so she replied, “We have some. I’ll lend it to you for the day.” The question used to be, “Do you have bear bells?” Now they’re considered dinner bells.

We saw all the traditional sights – hikers standing behind their cars changing into or out of hiking boots, everyone layering up in all their clothes and still shivering, hikers huddled around wood fires indoors as the rain poured down, a few flakes of snow in the air, fresh snow on the ground at higher elevations.

From the front of Storm Mountain Lodge we could see Castle Mountain to the north, in the Bow Valley, right down to the Rockwall to the south, on the road to Radium. This is the range of my third Veil of Magic story. I wish I’d brought the manuscript to read while I was up there.

We climbed up Marble Canyon in a dry interlude. It’s not a tremendous achievement unless you’re three, or have exercise-indused asthma, as I do. It felt great to make it to the top.

The hike is more beautiful every time I go up. The canyon itself is fascinating, but it’s the burn I love. A forest fire killed almost all the trees within view, leaving standing dead trunks in a surreal sculpture in black and white, and an astounding view – high mountains in three directions. Pre-fire you couldn’t see anything beyond the dense forest. Below the dead trunks new growth is springing up, lush and green and bursting with energy.

I wasn’t so pleased to have made it to the top by the time I was half way down. Lack of oxygen to the major muscles in my legs turned me into a raggedy doll, struggling to keep my knees steady on the down hill. Two days later I’m still a little staggery. No, I haven’t been drinking! But I am very happy.

Maureen