Foxey ran ahead of me, stopping several times to stick her
head in the snow only to come up with a snow covered snout and a quick snort.
It had been a very mild winter so the snow was shallow at the start. As we
hiked past Lundy Lake and further into the canyon the snow became deeper. Foxey
seemed unaffected. The snow was covered with scampering animal tracks and Foxey
discovered a multitude of curious new sniffs. She was elated. As the snow got
deeper, Foxey traveled over the snow like a dolphin breaking water, arcing to
dive back in.
When we reached the first beaver dams, the sun began to
disappear behind several dark, warning, clouds. At this point, in pursuit of
her sniffs she burrowed into the snow, leaving a mole-like trail behind her.
The clouds grew closer overhead and we were soon engulfed by a light snowfall.
Like a stirred snow globe, the flakes gently waffled down to
the canyon floor. Juxtaposed against the light falling snow, was the stillness
of the canyon. For the added activity of snowfall, the canyon appeared to drift
into a deeper sense of silence- a silence broken only by the crunch of the
thin ice covered crust broken by my snowshoes, and the soft brush of
snowflakes hitting my jacket.
The front brought in an artic wave of cold that penetrated
my gloves and Foxey’s short coat. With the uninvited drop in temperature, Foxey
began to shiver in the midst of her exertion. Although Foxey never complained
about the chill, she did not protest being placed in my backpack where I began
to carry her out of the canyon. Seemingly quite content, she appeared to enjoy
the view from her high position.
In the canyon it seemed as if we were the only beings alive
on earth but returning to the car there was the hope of civilization and
warmth.
I love that you posted a picture of the card with the story! It makes it feel so personal, and gives the card and picture itself a cool new feeling.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful day.
ReplyDelete