It seems counterintuitive to think of ice as a sign that winter is coming to an end. But these odd formations have appeared in my backyard, below the eaves of my house. They are the result of snow melting from the roof. Although it is still cold enough that it freezes, this gives me some hope that winter is near its end.
There are many ways to enjoy winter in Northern New Brunswick: skiing, snowshoeing, skidooing, skating, and sledding. By the time spring officially arrives, however, I am ready for its end. I crave flip flops and walks on the beach, campfires and balmy summer nights. I am done with all the whiteness and not being able to see around corners when I back out of my driveway.
We are not done with winter weather yet, but at least there are signs that it is beginning to end.
There are so many things I am grateful for: being surrounded by family and friends; having finally settled into a job that I love; a yoga practice that enriches and strengthens me; books that let me slip away; and little things like coffee and chocolate… But when I started thinking about what I would photograph to show gratitude this week, what I realized is that right now, I am most grateful for being home again.
This is the early morning sunrise through my back window.
Our first significant snowfall coated trees and lawns, turning our world white.
Admittedly, I am not a fan of winter – I’m a summer girl, through and through. But the magic of the first snow is hard to ignore.
The golden shades of November disappear under this fresh layer of frosting; the barren branches are bright and new.
For now, at least, winter is a welcome sight.
This summer we came home.
After a year in Ontario, a move we made to be closer to “opportunities” for ourselves and our children, we have returned to the Maritimes once and for all.
As it turns out, the opportunities we sought were neither abundant nor worthwhile. Instead, we have chosen to come back to the small town we came from. Family, friends, the quiet life, and the beautiful beaches drew us home.
And so, I am back to sitting in the sand, listening to the waves, and searching for sea glass.
This is my happy place.
After a hectic move from New Brunswick to Ontario, we are finally unpacked.
For two months, it seemed like all I did was make phone calls and deal with endless boxes of stuff. (It is incredible how much stuff we accumulate.)
At last, I can enjoy the home we bought and the beautiful garden that came with it. And once again I have time to explore with my camera, not only in my new yard, but in my new city as well.
It also means that I finally have time for writing here again. Thanks for waiting.
While taking photos of the little birds visiting my crab apple tree, I had a surprise visitor join them. This little squirrel was very cooperative in allowing me to photograph her. Even when I moved closer, she didn’t appear nervous, and continued in her quest to find a snack.
Like many others in the Maritimes, I am (not so patiently) waiting for the arrival of spring weather. Although the season may have officially begun over a month ago, it still looks and feels very much like winter. (Yes, that white stuff is in the background is snow.)
Because of the cold and wet weather, and the rotting snow, finding photo opportunities has been a challenge lately. Occasionally, I find something around the house to use as a subject matter. And, occasionally, I find things through the window – like the rain drops on my barbecue.
I continue to hold out hope that it will end (the forecast says so, finally), and that green grass is not far off.
Until then, I will do my best to look on the bright side and find photos where I can (even if it means not leaving the house with my camera!).
I found these pictures on a camera I use mainly for travel (and apparently have not used since last spring!).
They brought back memories of a fun weekend upriver: camping, fishing, and four-wheeling.
In this seemingly endless winter, the photos are also a happy reminder that spring does, in fact, exist.
This shingled shop sits alongside the river in the Miramichi. Although it was not open the day we visited, I loved the weathered appeal of the building, and was drawn to the sign.