Secrets of the Snow

Experiencing my first taste of a Norwegian winter at the edge of Oslo and the marka, has introduced me a little to the nature of snow. With spring straining at it's leash and the equinox less than a week away, I look forward to hiking as greenery bursts around me and temperatures rise. But before that rush, I want to remember my thoughts of the snow and recall the surprises it held for me.

My short wanderings in the last few months have led me into the woods. Each day I am able to look out to the edge of a wood, mostly scots pine, different spruces and birch. Daily observation allows an intimacy gained through familiarity, to become aware of patterns of light and dark and the effect temperature has on this.

When snow first fell back in November it was of voluptuous, fat flakes, wanting to caress everything and then freeze in an uncertainty of whether this actually was winter or an early, ambitious strike. It's embrace highlighted the form of trees and branches, proud rocks and boulders and cheeky adolescent spruce saplings. Light opened up the murky depths of the wood as snow reached the ground and settled, the darker trunks and needle covered limbs being brought forward against a white background. Suddenly the woods became more visible, a depth revealed and sense could be made as spaces were shown up. Then, as more snow fell, branches, twigs, needles and leaves became same, what was once in relief was rejoined, lines blurred, middle ground no longer visible and the shape of the forest lost again.

Wandering through the woods in the snow was so much fun! Otherwise secret life showed itself, animal tracks darting across the trail, under overhanging boulders and out the other side. Spider webs were icing sugar frosted before sagging with the weight of frozen water. Long dead, hollow trunks presented their rings of ermine, where lower down the thick, rich moss seemed like slipped, emerald crowns. Songbirds became silent, the cawing of magpies took precedence. Squirrels tracked to the base of trees, to be lost in the tops until a shake of snow from a branch gave them away.

Now it is March and the snow is melting. One week to the next can vary immensely; this may not yet be the end of the winter. But the trees have been found then lost as the snow falls then melts. As  the retreat reveals the ground, the secrets of the wood are concealed once more.