Snow memories

I found evidence that our winters have been warmer with less precipitation through historical weather records. Further evidence is the change in our winter activities that we do on the ranch. I started to learn to ski at a young age, but it was many years before I went to a commercial ski hill. All our skiing was done at home. The forest on the ranch has many trails dissecting it that were built by my father when he was logging. These paths were perfect for skiing on and the snow was deep enough to cover the forest floor. At times if the snowfall was a bit sparse then the hay fields could be used, with a giant track made around the perimeter. For a number of years we had an old snowmobile with a professional track setter that we used to set a very good ski trail. The trail system was so heavily used, not just by us, but by friends, that we built a "ski shack" up the hill from the Ranch by the "gravel pit".

The ski shack at the gravel kit, circa early 1980s.

The ski shack became a gathering place for our annual "chili cook-offs" that our friends the Peznicks started on New Years Day. There was a small stove in the lean to that we could use to keep the chili warm and people could enjoy tobogganing as well as skiing. After a few years we moved the chili cook-off party to our home and used our hill in the pasture for tobogganing.

1998, the New Years day chilli cook-off.

New Years Day, friends, family and neighbors gather to toboggan.

The last 5 years we have had trouble continuing with our chilli-cook off tradition as often there is not enough snow to toboggan or ski. I have thought of organizing alternate activities such as volleyball in order to be able to continue the tradition of the gathering. Our family has been the hosts of many events over the years on the Ranch which I view as our commitment to both place and community, and our home is the natural gathering place, signifying our strength as leaders and our right to belong here.

Another measurement of the dwindling snow fall levels on the Ranch is to use the fenceposts as a yardstick. I remember that the snow would often come right to the top of fenceposts and if it was an area where the snowplow would push the snow, then the fence would be completely covered, often necessitating repairs in the spring.

circa 1960s, the snow reaching up to the top of the fence line.

Winter 1965. I am in the makeshift sleigh with my grandmother, Renee, looking on. The snow is getting close to the top wire on the fenceline.

Winter 2010. Compared to the 1980s and before we have more of a dusting of snow than an actual snowfall. The snow never goes up the fenceposts.

My childhood home, circa 1970s. The skis leaning up against the wall give the house the look of a ski chalet rather than a farmhouse.

Eddy did not ski very often with us but here he is, early 1970s, with his niece Sylvie, who was visiting from Switzerland with her son, Loic. They are on one of the many forest trails on the ranch.

The farm does look beautiful under it's covering of snow. Even though the snow is not as deep it still illuminates the landscape.

Winter 2010, my daughter Marlee discovers that there is enough snow to ski in the pasture by the house.

hush, hush

Snow so still, so soft,

hush, let it be.

The traces of our stories, no secrets in the snow.

The little mice feet running about.

The tracks from my daughter’s skis, how far she went.

The big holes from the sliders that fell.

How to love all of that honesty, the every mark in our soul?

Only the birds are spared, splicing through the frozen air.

The rest of us leave our traces for all to see.

My walk, where I stopped, and the tears that went down down

through the crystalline layers to the welcoming earth below,

warming the frozen grasses with a salty kiss.

I know what you will all say, let it be.

My friends, my guides, have faith.

It will all be.