Snowy road

1. The smooth, quiet brush of fresh snow under your skis.
2. The way ice breaks and cracks over rocks as the tide falls.
3. Empty beaches with shimmering vistas.
4. 

   Sea ice and rock, low tide

   The mildness, softness and peace a snowfall brings.
5. Like the folks here, a winter is softness and gentility: quite well mannered, and departs when the welcome is worn.
6. Snow days!
7. A crackling fire in a woodstove making heat that penetrates to your bones.

8. 

   A boy and a buoy

   Walking ON the bay in places we usually row, paddle or sail.

9. Sunlight sparkling off snow-laden branches.
10. Minas Basin ice shifting, buckling, making strange sculptures on the shore.
11. Magnificent bald eagles.
12. Watching the days get longer in the coldest part of the winter.
13. 

    Icing on the cake

    Shovelling the driveway with a helper who will clear up the last little bits: the sun.
14. NO mosquitoes, NO blackflies, NO no-see-ums!
15. The weather changes frequently: it’s fairly mild, and cold snaps are short, warm periods are also short.  There’s something for everyone and no time to get bored!
16. The province is small but has a variety of microclimates.  Want more snow?  Ski hills are not so far away.  Want less snow?  Go walk a deserted South Shore beach.


Ice floes

17. Memories of crazy winter antics performed when we were young and immortal: descending hills at great speed, jumping from one ice floe to another as the frozen ocean broke up (some have memories of being rescued in these situations!), “getting towed on a sled behind my dad’s car on a snow-covered gravel road, riding my bike through the streets of Halifax when the snow wasn’t too bad,” ice boating, skating on thin ice….
18. Maple syrup made in the woods.
19. 

    Alone in a drift

    Patterns made by drifting snow.

20. Winter skies unlike anything you see in the summer.
21. Eating fresh snow.
22. Cardinals and purple finches at the feeder.
23. Getting insight into the life of rabbits from their tracks in the woods.

Oak leaf shape in ice

Ice on rocks near Oak Island

I love how the soft sea ice forms, bends and cracks over rocks as the tide recedes.

It was -8° C this morning along the shore of the Bay, and the tide was falling.

Sunset at Covey Island, one of the islands protected by MICA.

The first settlers of Lunenburg must have been in awe at such freedom.  What we now call Germany was at the time an assortment of many principalities of various sizes.  Going down the “highway” of the river Rhine to Rotterdam, where they boarded the ship that would take them across the Atlantic, the emigrants would have been stopped at every border crossing and paid tolls.  Many of them had even needed to secure permission from their feudal lord to leave the land they were bonded to as peasants.  Once they reached Lunenburg in 1753, they must have been very appreciative of the freedom to profit from their own labour and build their future with their own hands.

Even some of the modern-day German immigrants to Nova Scotia that I know have expressed to me their appreciation of the freedom they have here in a society that is less regulated than the one they left behind.

The entire natural coastline of this island has been destroyed and replaced with a rock wall.

The Mahone Islands Conservation Association (MICA) works to protect public access to the islands of Mahone Bay, as well as to preserve their natural environment.  The islands are increasingly under pressure by private owners and developers.  Natural shorelines and nesting habitats are disrupted (photo right).  Owners of some islands chase visitors off beaches that have long been used by the general public. (Some have been known to brandish guns in their efforts, something  that Canadians or at least Nova Scotians just don’t do.)

From what I understand, depending on the type of deed, the intertidal zone has legally remained public except in a few cases where water rights were transferred.  In a country where travel by boat was the norm, the right to land on a shore would have been an issue of public safety.  Nowadays, it seems that there is a trend for private property rights to be extended into the intertidal zone -  whether by deed, by custom, by complicity of the authorities or by ignorance by the public, I don’t know.  Enlighten me if you know anything more about this issue, please, by commenting below.

Meanwhile, I take pleasure in seeing the decendants of the original Lunenburg settlers, with names such as Meisner and Ernst,  involved in MICA, perserving public access to the islands of Mahone Bay for future generations of humans and seabirds.

Perched on a rock at high tide, a female blue-winged teal

Another duck in our local collection, alongside American black ducks, mallards and buffleheads. I wouldn’t ordinarily get such a photo, but there was a bush between us and the duck was preoccupied, I suppose. The tide was very high, flooding the marshes. It’s duck country.

On a cold morning the receding tide leaves a film of ice on the seaweed and rocks along the shore. Nova Scotia is blessed with natural shorelines like this. It's a haven for wildlife, but threatened by development. More about that in future posts. We feel fortunate to live along an undeveloped coastline.

Ice forms patterns on two species of seaweed.

Chunks of heavier winter ice are heading out to sea, temporarily caught in the overnight freeze, soon to be melted by the warming spring sun.

Just after the tide starts to recede.

I stood and watched the tide start to go out, leaving traces in the snow to mark how high it had been, ice crystals transformed by the brief caress of the ocean.

Walking on the ice past a mooring buoy, Jan. 25

We’ve had quite a long cold snap, and the ocean ice in and near our inlet is way over 6 inches thickness, the recommended thickness for safety.  Beautifully smooth too, in places, though the wind chill discouraged us from going back for our skates.

A branch which has been stuck in the ice for weeks now, next to a mooring buoy, with other moorings in the background

We walked out to a small island and explored the ice formations around the rocks

Along the shoreline at low tide, a weird and wonderful landscape to explore

At low tide, the ice is sitting on or near the bottom, so there’s little risk. It’s harder to get onto the ice when the tide is higher, as the broken pieces around the edge may not bear one’s weight, as my son learned this morning! No harm done, just wet boots and an uncomfortable trot home.

The big rocks in the middle are barely underwater at high tide, and we have to avoid them when rowing or paddling in the summer.

The tidal inlet on January 2, 2009

Ice always builds up and stays in the inlets where it isn’t easily carried out to sea.  At low tide it just sits on the bottom, on the mud. There’s always a dynamic edge out there forming, melting, breaking off depending on the wave action, with pieces getting carried out to sea.

The water's edge, tide rising after a cold night

The ice that was shaped by this rock and then broke as the tide fell tide now floats over it on the rising tide.

I tasted the ice that had formed at the water’s edge on a small beach, as I said I would. As predicted, it was indeed fresh, not salty.  A good survival tip, should you ever find yourself shipwrecked on a desert island in winter.