frozen in blue swirls

frozen in blue swirls

the creek mirrors bare trees above

dead leaves below

The turning of the year brings longer but colder days, cold-snapping the creek water into fantastic swirls.

Pilgrim Creek may be frozen on top, white ice rimming the banks, slate blue ice midstream, but underneath, the water still wanders on like a sojourner taking one step forward, one steps sideways, one step forward, one step the other way, but always onward.

Raccoon tracks left in the mud along the bank after it was carved into waves by the latest flood waters.

A patch of white ice looks like a swimming polar bear.

An illusory mountain appears to be reflected in the crackled ice.

This ice pattern looks like an Aboriginal bark painting.

Nature, the consummate abstract artist.

thin ice on the creek

thin ice on the creek --

at dusk an owl swoops silently

from tree to tree

The sun is sitting on the rim of the hill, but in the little valley where the creek meanders the bright orb has already disappeared. As I crunch through the remains of snow and frozen leaves on the path, I spook an owl from its vigil at the top of an oak. It swoops silently upstream a little ways and perches in another tree, watching me warily. Since I am moving in that direction, it keeps hopscotching from one treetop to another, staying just far enough ahead that I can't get it in my viewfinder. Finally, it stays put, but in the gathering gloom it's too dark to get a decent photo. The owl that got away, I think ruefully. 
          It got up to 52 F/11 C this afternoon. The soft snow is perforated by blades of green grass, but the ice on the creek has not yet started to melt. What little water was left after last summer's drought froze into plates suspended above pockets in the creek bed, studded with fallen leaves and shattered where deer have stepped on it. One strange ice formation looks like a hawk with an open beak about to catch the rabbit that didn't get away.

heart of melted ice

heart of melted ice,

deer hoof heart, grass through snow heart,

snirt heart of sand on snow

On Valentine's Day, ice and snow melting, four hearts created by Mother Nature's hand. 

polka dot pond ice

polka dot pond ice,

fractured crystal spears on the creek,

leaf melt shadow

February's rhythm, freeze/thaw, beats out jazzy crystal patterns on the creek, paints abstract black and white art on the ponds. Bubbles from the depths of Jack's Pond melt dark circles in the snow-covered ice. The warmth of a dark leaf melts its outline in the ice. On Pilgrim Creek, a frozen crystal wave hovers above reflections of trees and rippled mud. A shield of fractured ice, undercut by the current, rests on a tree trunk.  

snow shadows untouched

snow shadows untouched

by sun's fingers, riddled with 

holes, slowly shrinking

Unseasonably warm. Only a few holdout patches of snow, protected from the reach of the sun's fingers by tree trunks, logs, creek bank, but pocked and shrinking. One little splotch looks like a face crying, "Help! I'm melting!" The ice on the creek is also riddled with holes, sinking below a thin layer of melt water, while underneath, the free-flowing current tunnels like a mole through the frangible ice.

green ice on the creek

green ice on the creek,

stranger than silver ice bubbles

or green tea ice cream

Freezing rain followed by snow and strong winds. Pilgrim Creek is bedecked with ribbons and bows of green ice, frozen blue-green algae. Strangely beautiful, but most likely toxic.

          Many streams contain some form of algae. A certain amount is not damaging but large amounts, algae blooms, can be detrimental. Blue-green algae is an organism that has characteristics of both a plant and a bacteria, called cyanobacteria. When algae die and decompose they consume large amounts of oxygen which causes an oxygen deficiency. Cyanobacteria thrive in an oxygen-deprived environment and release harmful substances which are toxic to mammals, birds and fish. They also block sunlight, harming other water plants by interrupting the photosynthesis process.

          The algae's toxins can sicken people. Contact with the water can cause skin or respiratory irritation, and drinking it can cause diarrhea, nausea, cramps, jaundice and vomiting. Dogs exposed to the toxins in the water can become ill almost immediately, with drooling, vomiting, staggering and convulsions. A number of dogs have died as a result of playing in water with blue-green algae blooms.

          Of course, right now the algae is frozen. But even so, it poses a danger for all the wildlife who walk through the creek and drink its water. I see tracks of deer, fox, rabbits, raccoons, opossums, squirrels, wild turkey and other birds all over the snow covering the creek, especially around holes where the ice has melted. 

          The main cause of excess algae growth here is nutrients from the run-off of chemical fertilizers used on crops. Would that farmers would use a safe and natural alternative!

silver ice bubbles

silver ice bubbles

curve through deer and rabbit prints

on the creek's soft snow

Two days after the blizzard, the snow is softening on Pilgrim Creek, stamped with the imprints of deer and rabbits. A narrow ribbon of ice bubbles looks like a necklace of silver pearls on white velvet.

ice clouds sunk below

ice clouds sunk below

meltwater reflecting trees,

clusters of red berries

Melting ice sunk below the surface of Pilgrim Creek makes cloud patterns that seem to float above the trees reflected in the dark water. Piebald patches of snow on the banks, full of animal tracks. A shrub with clusters of bright red berries leans out over the edge of a high bank, like cherries on top of a chocolate and vanilla marble cake.

pitted snow, crackled

pitted snow, crackled 

ice and clear running water

transform Pilgrim Creek

A few of the many faces of water, liquid, snow and ice. Thawing in the day's warmth, the snow on the banks has lost its crystalline structure, collapsing into a pitted, porous amalgam. The ice at the edge of the water looks like crackle glaze or shards of glass. The liquid water, flowing swift and clear, undermines the ice, leaving it suspended like a fractured glass shelf projecting from the bank or perched like a shattered shield on a log poking up from the creek. The sun shining on these three faces of water gives them an extra sheen.

ice encasing snow

ice encasing snow –

glazed, pendulous, crackled –

reflecting rainbows

 

On the banks of Pilgrim Creek, porous snow glistens with a thin coating of ice. A veneer of fantastically crackled ice with lacy edges lines the shady side of the creek. Shields of snow bordered with ice perch precariously on logs protruding from the running water. In shallow pools the ice forms a curvaceous melange of transparent bubbles. Icicles with bulbous tips hang from every branch, dead leaf, seed pod and bud. Wherever the sun shines on the ice it sparks little glints of red and gold, transforming every dull object into a wonder.

mist falling on snow

mist falling on snow –

wild geese huddle near the shore

or perch on slick ice

Cold fog and mist in the morning. Even the Canada Geese with their insulating down look cold, or hunkering down on the slick shelf of ice or huddling close to shore, unperturbed by a Siamese cat trotting past. In the evening, lightning, thunder and freezing rain. Geese all gone.

farm pond half frozen

farm pond half frozen –

wild geese swim and stand on ice –

reflect in water

More snow last night, and with low temperatures and humidity the snow forms into hard, glittering columns. Today the temperature warms a bit, but still well below freezing, and the snow comes down as tiny white pellets and transparent ice needles. On Cattail Pond a large flock of Canada Geese swim in the open water or stand on the edge of the thin ice, their dark forms reflected in the blue-grey water. When I stop, the geese in the water swim to the ice, the larger ganders flapping their wings in an aggressive display.

late winter snowfall

late winter snowfall –

wild geese gone, two crows on ice,

two ducks dip and dive

Scent of snow on the north wind yesterday. By evening the Canada Geese have flown from the iced-over pond. All night the wind blew, dropping half a foot of snow, plastering the north side of trees, piling cotton balls on every bush, leaving fantastic snow sculptures hanging from branches. Today two crows stand in the exact middle of the frozen pond, stark black on white. Of course they fly away when I approach. On another pond, half free of ice and that half covered with snow, two ducks dip and dive. Our gray tabby accompanies me for a walk in the woods, stepping carefully in my footsteps. When we get to the little brook, he balks at the water's edge so I have to catch him and ferry him across.

pond iced over again

pond iced over again –

confined to shore the wild geese

browse on dead grasses

The Canada Geese are still hanging around Cattail Pond, even though it has completely iced over again and they are no longer able to feed from silt at the bottom of the pond. They stay close to the shore, browsing on seeds and dead grasses. With their black heads and white chinstraps they look like they’re wearing helmets. The gander stands guard while his mate bends her long neck, grasps a blade of grass with her bill and tears it off with a jerk. Amazing that these wild geese mate for life and can live more than two decades.

Mississippi ice

Mississippi ice

half gone – bald eagles soaring

and diving for fish

A few miles from home we see a pair of bald eagles right by the road. The one sitting on a fence post flaps its wings, each as long as the bird is tall, but does not fly away. The other, standing on some small prey, just gives us the eagle eye. At the Mississippi River in Burlington we see many eagles by the beautiful new bridge built after the Great Flood of 1993, when water rose to the bed of the old bridge and the auditorium looked like an island in the river. Now the river is half free of ice. Some eagles sit on the ice, others are soaring and diving for fish, so striking with their white head and tail, black body and wings.

Valentine's Day snow

Valentine’s Day snow –

heart of Pilgrim Creek breaks
open, flowing free

 

14 February 2010, fluffy clusters falling gently all morning. Our neighbors are out for a walk, how romantic on Valentine’s Day. I take the path down to Pilgrim Creek, snow up to the tops of my boots, snow lying thick along the dark tree limbs, plastered against the north side of trunks, caught in the crotch of branches, piled like a tea cozy on top of a bird nest. The creek has become a path for deer, their neat hoof prints piercing the snow, leaving heart-shaped impressions. Here and there the ice has broken open, the dark water running clear and swift, one break magically shaped like a heart.