Tonight as I was walking the dog, the north wind began to blow. Walking along the south end shore of the lake I could see that the wind had already began to push the snow about, making what looked to me like the scalloped edges of a petty-coat at the bottom of a very large dress. As the wind began to grow colder I decided to head down the hill into the marsh that had been frozen solid. This was pure joy for my dog for he is usually not allowed in this area and there were plenty of new textures and smells to sniff out.
Because I left a little late the last part of my walk was in the dark. How eerie it was to walk across the marsh at night and I found my footing slip from time to time as I was not only unfamiliar with this territory, but the over grown grass that had been flattened by previous snow and winter winds hid the holes that the prarrie dogs had dug the past summer, giving the illusion that the ground was firm, when certainly it was not. By the time I headed up the path that lead to the last part of my walk, the fog had settled in quite thick. As I came toward the bridge that crossed the canal the light and silhouette of the lamp post in the fog reminded me of the lamp post of Narnia from that wonderful story ‘The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe’.
I have read that delightful book at least 17 times since childhood and thought for sure that once I had crossed the bridge that surely I would meet Mr. Tumnuss or Mr. and Mrs. Beaver. And with the wind getting colder by the second I could almost hear the bells jingling from the White Witch’s sleigh. But alas it was only the keys of one of my neighbours who was walking briskly so that they might get home quicker and out of the cold.
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