26 January, 2 February

 Winter has truly arrived at the Forest and Wetlands.  January ended clear but icy.  February has brought snow, the first of the season.

26 January

The Forest gleamed in brilliant sunlight as we approached.

Patches of bright light alternated with the shadows of the trees.

The winter sun illumined mosses.

As the deciduous trees have shed their foliage, other vegetation has become more visible and more identifiable.  Until now, this sitka spruce has only really been identified by a couple of branches of prickly needles and its scaly bark.

As the leaves of maple, alder, and undergrowth have fallen, the height of the spruce has been revealed. 

Sometimes I reflect on how forests have shaped folklore.  The former "muppet," has become a mossy, hungry-looking predator. Not something anyone would want to meet on a dark night.

Elaborate formations of hair ice continue to sprout from alder logs and branches.

The Marsh was iced over, not yet ready to receive skaters, but definitely frozen.

Ice reflected the sunlight.

Bubbles from marsh vegetation had frozen, forming abstract designs.

At the south end of the marsh, a mixed flock of mallards and wigeons stood about on the ice, which was frozen too solid to enable them to swim.

For the first time in weeks, Mount Arrowsmith was visible in all its glory.

2 February

The first snowfall of the winter--much later than usual.  The Forest is always a place of enchantment, but today it was transformed. The path beckoned.

Fern and salal, adorned in white, welcomed us.  The Forest was very still, wtih only an occasional "floomp" as snow slipped from branches.

Snow has a way of transforming things, and adding new effects to what had been beautiful, but expected.

Cobwebs had caught snowflakes into tidy little hammocks beside trees.

This seems to attest both to the light, dry snow and to the strength of the spiderwebs. 

I had expected to see animal tracks in the snow, but all that was apparent on the path were the prints of a mid-sized bird--possibly a robin.

The nurse stump that I've photographed often had changed--

--surrounded by snow-dressed sword fern, framed by mossy windthrow, but with the tiny huckleberry seedlings still standing.

The "muppet" is also changed when adorned.

The Marsh was the stuff of Christmas cards today.

 No birds were visible on the iced-over south side of the marsh.  Again, the sun reflected the ice.

Yet to be deeply frozen, but with a dusting of snow, the ice has fissured into odd constellations.

The forecast is for a cold week and more snow on the coming weekend.  A hard freeze on the Marsh is quite possible by our next visit.  

Perhaps the Marsh will be visited once more by ice skaters.