Jon, Theodore and I spent a week up north in a cozy cedar-lined log cabin which was literally buried in snow. Every day brought another ten centimetres of powder so we took full advantage of the weather and spent hours tromping along the winding snowshoe trails. Jon and I went first, trying to flatten enough of the trail for short-legged Theodore* to navigate. It was glorious. We even came upon a pair of swans who swam over, hoping for a hand-out. Who knew that pockets should contain swan treats? They got nothing for their trouble but I scooped some wonderful images for a painting.
There was lots of other evidence of local wild-life. A pair of red squirrels whom we dubbed “Frick and Frack” because of their constant bickering spent the week excavating deep wells to access their cache of cedar berries; their heads popped up and down like periscopes as they took unwilling but necessary turns on sentry duty. A solitary deer visited nightly, her trail meandering up from the water’s edge. The other walk-past - long trail drag and all - was performed by a pheasant. We saw neither deer nor bird but were exquisitely aware of living within their home grounds. The only other bird we saw was the grouse Theodore and I accidentally flushed; he exploded from a snowbank and made no secret of his annoyance.
While all three of us loved that magical week, Theodore in particular was beserk with joy. His snout ranneth over.
*A typical Skye terrier, he has enormous 4 inch “hare feet” attached to 6 inch legs. Mom would have loved him. She was 5’2” with size 9 feet and always claimed that God bent her legs over too far up. Theodore could mount a similar argument. After his dental cleaning, the vet tech went in to rouse him from the anaesthetic; urging T to stand up, she eventually realized that he WAS standing.