Making landfall on the island

Across from the tidal inlet near our house is a small island which is a symbolic destination for us, depending on the time of year. We celebrate spring, and the ice breaking up, by canoeing to it. In winter, if the ice is thick enough, we walk or skate to it. Today the ice was over 6 inches thick, the required minimum, and we walked there.

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.

Ice breaks over rocks as the tide recedes

I’m fascinated by the formation of ice and how it interplays with the tides. And it has started again with cold morning temperatures which leave a layer of ice which plays with rocks as the tide goes down. You can hear the cracking as you walk along the shore – just little crick-clicks now, but bigger booms when the ice is thicker.

I made a video called Frosty Morning last year which you can see here.

This one shows how tide and temperature create an ever-changing landscape on Mahone Bay’s shoreline, from first frost to spring breakup.

The music is an Appalachian tune called Frosty Morning, played by Dennis Robinson on fiddle and Heather Holm (that’s me) on accordion.

In a shady and sheltered spot, a little ice remains.

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.

The ice that yesterday filled the cove has floated out to sea. The Oak Island Inn (which is not on Oak Island, but overlooks it) is in the distance.

As soon as the ice had melted, the bufflehead ducks that had all winter occupied the other side of the causeway, the side that didn't freeze, gleefully (I imagine) took possession of the newly open water.