the killing moon

well, it is the time in the year that the snow is starting to stick, that the ground starts to freeze.   It's the time of the slaughter too.  

The moose hunt has been on since the first weekend in September, and it has been a slow hunt.  Moose don't seem to be as abundant as they once were in the park, nor out in Zone 5, just outside the south part of the park.  

The turkeys, ducks and chickens mostly are killed, and the last few have a short span left... they are filling freezers.   Calves and cattle coming in from Chimney Cove are being slaughtered too, hanging to chill in barns and sheds throughout Trout River.   Not too many lambs were around to become roasts: the coyotes had really hit the sheep hard this summer.

The pigs are being done now too.   I never went to say hi to our pig: I love pigs as animals toooooo much.   I am upset about the pig going.   He had a happy life though, in his little barn by the sea, being fed leftover scraps and apples fallen on frozen ground.  

5 Weeks of Blizzards

Been trying to get out and get some air... but 5 weeks of blizzard have been crazy!!!  We have been housebound and going steadily more stir crazy.  Keep the axes away from us.  Even the Anglican Minister is starting to look suprisingly like Jack Nicholson in the Shining.

Photos would consist of driving snow.  Winds gusting to 110 km/hr, but usually just blowing at 50-60 km/hr.   In 5 weeks of snow, we've gotten about 3.3 meters of snow (more than 9 feet!!).

A peak at the Tablelands between storms.

Tablelands in Winter

Winter, 2010 has been warm and grey and rainy.   But, here are some photos of other winters to get everyone ready for what should come...

Gros Morne Mountain, from the WP town Trail

Winter seems to come and go late fall.  Snow here, then gone.  Sun one moment, then gone too.   Rain, mist, all too often.  One day, warm South-westerlys,  the next, bitter Northerlies.   When the sun comes, people sneak out of doors.  things can be left for later.  Even Pete stands in front of his building, enjoying what little moments of sun come our way.

The light and the sky are dramatic and more powerful than the land and the sea.  That is what happens here in November, December.  On the Tablelands today, the light was so low that the shadows of crept across the rocky barrens for dozens of feet.  The faint tracks of caribou seemed much deeper and darker in that low angle light, as if they're written in ink on the ground, rather than by dust.

Rabbit Hunting

Now that the rain has stopped and the snow is down, the kids are out again. It's Rabbit Hunting season. 

gros morne from the unnamed trail that goes nowhere.

After school, the under 13 set pulls on boots and gloves and grabs their wires, twisted into rabbit snares.   Up the snowy trail they go, behind the water tower, the trail that climbs straight up the hill for seemingly no reason, because it just stops, but does not take you anywhere.

Eyes out for the tracks of rabbits.. they ask each other, is that a rabbit?  No, squirrel.  No!  That's a fox.  The rabbits are easy to tell... sometimes theyre just the small cat like paws, but often, its the long back foot, with the little front paws.  Other times, rabbit at rest, the imprint of tail, paws, long back feet.   They seem to run the same paths over and over.  So the kids find the rabbit paths, and set their snares.

Setting the snare.

Every evening after school, maybe sometimes before school, up they go to check to see if they have snared any rabbits.  They hope the rabbits are dead, if not, they have to kill the sad little beasties.   A quick karate chop to the back of the neck they tell me.  There is always a fight over who's snare it was, and whose rabbit it will be.  None of them, except for mien kinder like rabbit... they always give them to their nans. 

Winter

Trying to keep summer going, but it's gone.  Monday, the first hard frost killed the last of the flowers, the white garden phlox, the calendulas, the purple flowers whos names i don't know.  The last bouquet was exquisite, but full of pathos, purple, orange, gold and white tinged with pink, sort of suprised that it was still there, on the kitchen table.

But the snow is there now.  The arctic red bellied chicks are back, flitting and chipping among the snow covered black spruce.  My trail, snow covered now, reveals other travellers: the crows, squirrel, rabbit, fox.  A puppy's tracks- would that be Kathleen with Nova?  A big big dog... maybe strider has been down this way too.   No moose tracks.  No bear.

Silence, spice, the smell of snow.  Suddenly, christmas and the yule season just rise from the belly and into the blood.  The dark time of Halloween and Bonfire Night is gone.  Light and laughter is back.

In Winterhouse Canyon

We are just tipping over the edge between winter and summer.  Yesterday, sun and warm, took off the down parka for my walk, was in just a long sleeved tee.   The day started as winter though, cold and damp and dark and windy.

We are loosing the sun at my house now about 1:15 in the afternoon.  It only clears the tops of the southern hills at about 8:15.   Forget about sun rising in the east, setting in the west-  it's the season of rise in the south, set in the southwest.  Woody Point keeps its sun until about 4, and the last light hits the Norris Point Hills and Gros Morne mountain, shadows steadily creepin  up the slopes, to disappear at 4:45 p.m.  By 5:30 it's pitch black outside.

Tablelands, Winter;  Acrylic on Canvas, 2009