A walk on the beach

Here's a little update in our ongoing quest to see and experience winter differently. We have made it through January! Today is sunny, and tomorrow is a workday, so really, the last two days don't not count. (That's my opinion, and I'm sticking to it.)

Next weekend would be a good time for a visit to the Mountain Equipment Co-op, to do a little research and maybe purchase snowshoeing equipment. There is enough snow now to make it worth it. I get the impression we have below average snowfall to date. We've certainly not been hit like many areas around us have.

We are just coming out of the first brutal cold snap of the winter, which lasted about a week. Windchill factors went to -39, but we got the beautiful cold weather sunshine to go with it. No clouds means what little heat there is, disappears. It cost us a new battery for the Smart, and when the photographer saw the heating bill he walked to the thermostat and promptly reprogrammed it. We have become much like our own parents, yelling "put on a sweater" (and actually doing it), and we weren't heating it that warm to begin with. Surprisingly it is not that hard to get used to one degree less. 

What else can you do to "survive" winter? How about a walk on the beach? The sand crunching under your feet, the lifeguard stations, the reeds at the water's edge, other people enjoying themselves.

The beach at Moony's Bay Park

OK, so not quite the what you were expecting. There is sand under the snow, but the sound of crunching is actually the snow. The lifeguard stations are not in use this time of year. The reeds are there more as a reminder where the water's edge usually is. The other people are definitely enjoying themselves cross country skiing though! We got a good workout descending and then climbing back up the slope from the parking lot to the water.

There were a group of kids tobogganing down the hill in the park. (This web-cam shows the park from the opposite shore of the bay, and you can see it is a substantial hill.) I observed that only a kid could have the energy and determination to spend at least three times as much time climbing back up the snow covered hill than it takes to go down. Hence the invention of the ski lift, or downhill skiing would not be the industry it is today.

Moony's bay is the point where the Rideau River and the Rideau Canal diverge in the city. On the other side of the dam at the north end of the bay is Hog's Back falls. I learned in the last few weeks that they are officially known as the Prince of Wales falls, but no one calls them that. We often stop by this place in April to see the sheer force and volume of the water that passes through there at that point, when the thaw has swollen the river significantly. We've never gone here at this time of year, and as you can see from the pictures, we should have done it sooner, especially since I am always bleating about going to Niagara Falls when they are frozen. (Yes, not the same, I know, but this is just 15 minutes instead of 6.5 hours by car.)

Hog's Back Falls from the east side. 

Detail of the sculpting job the water and spray have done.

Detail of the current: Still very much alive, even at this point.

After this outing we were pretty chilled, and there were groceries to be done, so there were no more pictures that day. But today was very sunny, (with a biting cold wind) so we made a little detour over some nearby country road when going out for another errand.

Rolls of hay that were not collected off the field in fall. Giant Kellog's mini wheats?

 Two rows of corn, left to act as a snow fence and keep the nearby road from getting covered with drifts.

  Running on it's own. Trying to keep warm perhaps?

Frozen beef?

While we were out, I picked up "the girl with the dragon tattoo" in the bookstore. I hear good things about it, and there are two more months of winter, so the gazillion pages do not scare me!

Oh, and to Julie: I am so sorry to hear that you are just baking in Australia. Imagine missing all this lovely crisp freshness. Oh well, it's only for a year. You'll be back. (Evil grin on face....)

What a difference a day makes......

After storm finished sometime in the night from Saturday to Sunday, the sun came out. That gorgeous bright blue January sunshine that keeps the January blues away. (Fighting the blues with blue.......is that homeopathy?)  Virtually no cloud in the sky since yesterday morning! Of course when there is no cloud, the temperature plummets. The garbage had to go to the curb this morning, and for this short stretch hat, coat, boots and gloves were all needed, because it was -25.

Last year we got no sunshine for the whole month of January. This is very unusual, and it really wore me down. When sometime in early February we finally did have a day of nice clear sunshine in the middle of the week, I stood at the office windows like a four year old who was told she couldn't go outside.

It's our day off today, so after breakfast we worked up the courage to shovel the snow, which was luckily very light and powdery.  Then I decided that I was going back to take a few shots of the same places we visited Saturday, just to get the same subjects in this different light.

My Smart wouldn't start. Grrrrrr. It has never done that before. So I took the other car instead, and will deal with the Smart later. Maybe when the sun reaches it, I can start it. This will be the third winter with the original battery, and I am sure that like everything on that car, it is not huge.

The abandoned house, all blue today

 The dam and the ice fishing hut. It's a different one from Saturday, and it is bright blue, but I am shooting against the sunlight.

The lockmaster's house and the locks, taken from the dam. Oh that blue.......

And this is one of the ways we survive the winter. Oddly this blue light does not give me spring fever. That happens when I hear water dripping and running all around when the snow starts to melt.

Dull and grey - or is it?

January is the month we usually get housebound. Too housebound. Christmas is over, and it's a long stretch to spring. As I posted before, we are trying to change that a little.

A snowstorm began Saturday morning. We had planned to make a day trip, but the windchill factor was at -22, so we scrapped that idea pretty quickly. If we were going to drive somewhere, we'd want to walk around a bit, and it wouldn't have been any fun. Last weekend we had the same idea, and it wasn't that cold, but a blown tire just after getting on the highway put an end to the plans that time.

Saturday's snow was not pretty postcard snow. It was superfine, and not sticking to any branches or trees, so no pretty snow effects. It was coming down diagonally, and there were nasty gusts of wind. But since it was the weekend, some errands still needed to be run, so we decided to combine that with a quick look around the area. Was there  something interesting in the landscape worthy of a picture and a word or two? Could we find some beauty in all this dreariness?

We drove to Nichol Island Road, usually a pretty spot in summer. The sky was the colour of primer, one vast uniform expanse. The fine but persistent snow grayed out everything in the distance. The roads were greasy with the snow accumulation, and traffic lanes were more a suggestion than reality. Every once in a while paint lines became visible in the tracks, and we'd realise we're going straight in the left turning lane.

Once on Nichol Island Road, we crossed the bridge onto the dam and noticed a group of ice fishers and an ice hut on the ice by the locks. We drove on to the island to get a better angle to photograph them. Nature may appear  asleep this time of year, but it is not quite. Under the ice there are fish to be caught. And no doubt in the ice hut, there is some beer to be drunk.

The mooring posts at the dock near the lock's entrance appeared out of place in the snow, the water's edge having all but disappeared.

The lock equipment was partially buried in the snow. A clump of birch trees nearby looked all sorts of dirty gray and beige against the pristine white snow. In summer the trunks usually stand out clean and white against the green surroundings.

The abandoned house similarly acquired a lot of hidden colour against the white snow. In summer it is partially overgrown by weeds and vines, but now it was more visible. The once white clapboard looked beige, gray and even yellow in some spots yesterday.

Dead weeds in the unused fields around the house bobbed their dried flower heads on the wind in the exact same way they do in summer. In a few months they will be back at their job of trying to take over this house and the collapsed outbuildings.

The snow was so fine that the flakes did not really show up on any of the pictures, only the gray backgrounds allow you to conclude that it was snowing pretty heavily. 

Back on the slippery roads and off to the shops we went. In contrast to the restful Nichol Island area. the shopping plaza is not so nice in winter. Everyone is impatient to get through the intersections, and plows can't keep the roads clean. A snow median was even starting to form on the road.

We didn't hang around any longer than needed to run our errands here. Snow may be pretty in a more nature like setting, but in a place like this, it's just a headache.

Alight at night

I like Christmas lights. In December, I often bug the photographer to take routes through neighbourhoods we don't have to pass through, just to see what people do to dress up their homes. Some people put lots of thought into it and create pretty effects. Others approach their outdoor lighting with the same slap-happy attitude I sometimes have to dusting the top of the bookshelves: "yeah, that'll do!"

For the last 10 years Upper Canada Village has held the Alight at Night festival. Usually the park is shut down from sometime in early October to about Victoria Day. But from late November to New Years Day they open it up from 16:30 to 20:00 daily for you to walk around in the dark and see the buildings and many of the trees and fences decked out in Christmas lights. Visiting this is becoming a bit of a holiday tradition with us.

The village is a museo-park made up of buildings that were rescued and brought to that location just before the 1958 flooding of 10 communities in the area, (now known as the lost villages) due to the construction of the Moses Saunders Hydroelectric Dam and the St-Lawrence Seaway. Two communities were relocated, but many buildings were demolished, and 6500 people forced to move in the name of progress. The big picture clashed with people's lives as it does so often. For many older people who lived in the area this is still a very traumatic thing.

The first time we went to Alight at Night it was still a new event and they had decorated mostly just the buildings, and not all of them. This was before more serious hobby photography was happening, and the pictures we took then were either done with flash, or were wobbly. Now the decorations have grown to half a million lights, there is dining and hot chocolate available in the restaurants and some of the historic buildings, skating on a rink, music from some buildings, and an elaborate sound and light show at Chrysler Hall. (The photographer has a few more tricks up his sleeve too.) There are 5 horse drawn wagons equipped with sleigh bells that go around constantly. Avoiding horse shit in the dark can be tricky!

So, we drove down route 31 at sunset, bleak but pretty farm country under a thin blanket of snow, and arrived at the park at 16:50. We had to stand in line for 40 minutes to get tickets. The place was absolutely packed. The temperature was about -5, and there was no wind, which makes the cold very bearable, and therefore ideal conditions for this outing. While standing in line one of us went to the village store to get a loaf of the bread before it sold out, and took it back to the car. Eventually everyone in front of us had made up their mind if they wanted to pay for the horse-drawn wagon ride, and we got in. 

Right inside the park entrance, the church's carriage shed

Ghost people, x-mas tree, and the Robertson house in the background

The blacksmith shop

Lighted poplars with shadow-me

 Traces of the wagon lights. The red trace is from the horse harness

The schoolhouse looking inviting

The church was set up to be the showiest building. Some high tech light setup bathed the white building in a slow changing succession of red, brown, yellow, green, blue, purple and over again. It could be seen from almost everywhere in the village and the effect was absolutely gorgeous. A recording of a children's choir accompanied by piano played from the building

Left to right: tinsmith' shop , shoemaker, masonic lodge, Lutheran Pastor's home and Christ Church

Christ Church and Cooks Tavern and Livery

Louck's farm was decorated mostly in blue lights. For some reason this is my favourite building in the village. Speakers on the porch played a recording of a tenor singing such classics as "Oh Holy Night" and "Oh Come All Ye Faithful" for a nice traditional touch. The apple trees were all dressed up in lights.

 Louck's farm

Although you can argue that putting half a million Christmas lights in a village that isn't supposed to have electricity to begin with is not very purist, I still think you can do it well,or do  it poorly. For this reason I do not care for the sound and light show they put up at Chrysler Hall. (But I still post a link to it, so you can judge for yourself.) I find it is just too "Vegas" to fit with the rest, and the unapologetic modern electric sound of the Trans Siberian Orchestra's "Christmas Eve in Sarajevo" is also out of place. Oh well.

I love coming to this place. I saw it for the first time in 1983 when my friend came over from Europe. I had been in Canada just over a year. I had just finished studying Quebec pioneer history, including Upper and Lower Canada in high school for the past year.  I'd seen old Montreal, and the old town in Quebec City, but those places are old buildings filled with modern businesses. I kept hearing radio commercials for this place called Upper Canada Village near Morrisburg, and persuaded my father to take us there.

This place was different, it was the anti-museum.Costumed park employees discussed who these homes had belonged to and how they lived. It showed how ordinary people lived in 1860 eastern Ontario, their farming and food production and building methods, and their households and small businesses. It allowed you to get a real sense of this period. At that time they also emphasised the history of the United Empire Loyalists much more than they do now. (No surprise they speak of it less now, that was more 1790 and not 1860.) It started off an interest in pioneer history that has remained ever since.

Much later I identified that first visit as the moment I first put down roots on this continent. Canada, as my new home country, acquired another dimension for me in that visit. About 7 years ago a customer at work, a man in his 60's told me that his older sister had been a maid in Chrysler Hall when she was young, and it was still a private residence. It's such a small world, isn't it?