Venturing Out

Like millions of others who live in the eastern third of the U.S., we've been "in the freezer" all week. Temperatures here in the mountains of Virginia have struggled to get into the 20s during the day and plunged to zero and below at night. The wind has been blowing as well, making it feel even colder. Engines don't want to start, furnaces and heat pumps are running nonstop, and wood stoves are burning hot as folks battle the cold. It creeps in and spreads through houses despite best efforts to insulate. Many a door and window have rugs, towels, or rags stuffed around them to keep the icy air at bay.

Because I could, I've been hibernating inside the house since Wednesday, not even venturing out to the mailbox. Unlike so many others who must go out, I've been able to stay in these last four days. Today, however, I did venture out for maybe half an hour because Robin came in from farm chores and said, "Get your camera. There's a big ice flow on the creek bank." And so the bundling began. First, the "tube" that keeps the wind off my neck:

Then my favorite fleece jacket that I got for $3 at Twice Is Nice, a local second-hand store that benefits our medical center:

Next came my goose-down coat that reaches almost to me knees. After that, I added my hat.

For my hands, there were these nifty mittens.

They have a flap over the fingers that can be folded back...

which makes them perfect for taking photos in the cold. For my feet, I started with knee socks. They've been standard dress all week.

Over these I put some heavy-duty cold-weather socks...

and finally, my muck books that are lined with neoprene and keep my feet warm for quite a while.

The last step in bundling up was to pull up my hood. Now you might think I was overdoing it a bit for such a short excursion. We did go when the temperature was at the high for the day...but at only 8 degrees above zero and in a farm truck with a heater that doesn't work very well, I was glad to have all those layers!

After all the trouble I'd gone to, the ice formation didn't seem too impressive at first sight.

But, like most things, a closer look revealed a wee bit of wonder.

Either there is a wet-weather spring in this hillside, or rainwater drains through the ground and emerges about halfway up. At the base of the bank is a small creek which, of course, was frozen solid.

Robin had to help me across since the ice was quite slippery. I'm glad there wasn't anyone else around with a camera to record that little trek!

But I got some nice photos from the middle of the creek, don't you think?

Once on the other side, there were only a few places to put my feet that weren't slick, so I couldn't move around much to take photos. Even so, here's what I was able to capture.

Of course the big dogs went along for the adventure. Although they didn't appreciate Mother Nature's ice sculpture, they were totally absorbed by the smells and sounds.

This is Ernie. He'll be five in a few days.

Here's Leah. She's Ernie's mama and she just turned seven on December 28th.

And this is Ernie's papa. His name is Red. He's one good dog in so many ways! He's 11 1/2
and though he's showing some signs of aging, he's still going strong.

All three dogs were sniffing and scrambling, but Ernie...

...well, Ernie had a little trouble.

His nose was getting all his attention when his back feet hit the slippery ice. After some scrambles, a somersault, and a flying leap of several feet, he landed (on his feet) on the frozen creek beside Robin. Thankfully he's fine, but he didn't venture back up the hill!

By the time Ernie's acrobatics were over, the cold was seeping into our coats and boots. We skated (if you can call it that) back across the creek and headed home. Then came the undoing of all those layers: first off were the mittens, then the coat and hood, the hat, the fleece jacket, the "tube," the boots, and finally the extra socks.

In less than an hour, the entire adventure was over. I sat down at the computer with some hot spiced cider and started on the part where you come in: getting the pictures out of the camera and into this post! Stay warm out there!

Don't Bug Me

I don't like bugs. Never have. I can barely tolerate a butterfly. Just about anything with six legs makes me recoil in disgust, and a praying mantis could give me nightmares. Needless to say, I don't normally look close enough to appreciate their intricacies, and insects aren't usually the subject of my photographic adventures.

Once in a while, however, I can get past my dislike and see the wonder in a bug. Such was the case Sunday afternoon. Down by the river, where we were enjoying a beautiful afternoon, Robin pointed out this pretty thing flying around.

There were several of them. When they landed, they were perfect subjects, sitting still long enough for me to compose a shot, focus, and click away. Almost entirely iridescent, they are tiny things, only about two inches long.

I have to admit, it was fascinating to see this fellow up close. I got some nice photos, and it wasn't too awfully creepy-crawly, either.

But, just for the record, I still don't like bugs.

Good Friday Visitor

We had a special visitor on the Guest House pond this morning. Once again, Robin called while I was still a-snooze, to tell me to bring my camera and hurry. And once again, I threw on some clothes, grabbed the camera bag, and this time, headed for the car. When I arrived at the pond a few minutes later, Robin had gone to feed the cattle and the surface of the pond was empty. Or so I thought. I watched and looked for a few minutes and saw nothing but the fish swishing and a few raindrops making ripples. Robin came back and didn't see anything either, but kept insisting that it was still there. Finally, we saw it: a grebe paddling around near the water's edge.

 My Birds of Virginia Field Guide (by Stan Tekiela) gives the bird's proper name: a Pied-Billed Grebe and describes what we were looking at perfectly.

Although the book says grebes are "common residents," they are not common around here, at least not anymore. Robin's father could remember when, decades ago, there were a lot of grebes on the river. They called them "dive dippers" because they dove under the surface of the water. I tried to capture our little fella as he dove, but this is all I got:

They stay under water for several minutes sometimes, and usually surface in a completely different place from where they went down. 

Robin walked to the other side of the pond, which caused the grebe to swim toward me.

He (or she!) finally got close enough that I could get some decent pictures. 

Years ago, when a school faculty meeting got hot and stuffy, I slipped out of the library to open the front door for some fresh air. A few minutes later, a little bird (which turned out to be a grebe) hobbled in and started down the hall! With the custodian's help, I got it into a box and brought it home. When we put it into a small tub of water, it was so happy! It paddled and paddled with its one good leg, sending it around in circles. Apparently, it had mistaken a puddle on the parking lot for water deep enough to land on and broken its leg as a result. We sent it to the wildlife rehab center where it could be properly cared for. Luckily, this morning's visitor didn't make the same mistake.

I watched him dive and resurface for almost an hour. He stayed in the middle of the pond as long as Robin and I were on either side. When Robin joined me, the grebe headed to the other side, away from us pesky humans.

How blessed I am when God lets me peek inside the wonders of his creation! And how sweet it is to have a husband who gets up early enough to make sure I don't miss them.