Hell Week, Part II

So, warm now and with enough fuel to keep the genny going, we headed up to the power house to find out why the heck we were still not getting any water.  I have to tell you, I really love my snowshoes!  I had never worn them before, but after that 7 kilometre round trip, a good part of it pushing a loaded canoe, I certainly learned in a hurry.  They're really not difficult at all, and they sure make walking on deep snow easier!

Here is Paul, looking like he's in a snowshoe commercial:



Off we go up the hill ...



It's quite a pleasant walk up to the power house, and when you arrive, this is what you see:



It didn't take Paul long to figure out that the reason we had no water (and therefore, no power) was that one of the nozzles that the water flows through had actually broken.  This is a specialty part, not something you can just pick up at Canadian Tire, and so, for the time being until he can get a replacement, we're out of luck. 

On the plus side, there's definitely nothing wrong with the flow of water:



So essentially this meant we would be without water for the entire week.  On the upside, we were surrounded by snow, as well as a spring-fed pond.  It's not as convenient as turning on a tap, and obviously a lot slower, but it can be done.



Speaking of which, here is the pond, only partially frozen over.

Once we made our way back down to the house, we turned our attention to another problem.  During the long, cold days when the house was standing empty, an animal had stripped the bark from a lot of our trees.  The crabapple by the barn in particular had been almost completely stripped.  Our first thought was that it must have been a bear, but evidence in the form of a fair number of droppings pinned the blame squarely on the moose. 



Our crabapple tree, 80% stripped.  It will probably die.



A good example of stripping.  Most of the trees around the perimeter of the garden suffered some stripping, and a lot of them were seriously damaged.  The moose are very hungry in late February/early March, and they strip the bark to get at the calorie-rich sugar pulp just under the surface.  If the tree is stripped round ("circled") it will most likely die.  It makes me feel sick to think that a lot of our lovely apple and pear trees may be beyond saving - but really, we have a lot of trees; we can always plant more.

There's nothing you can really do to prevent this apart from fencing individual trees.  Some folks say that wolf urine is a good deterrent, but really ... I think I'd rather put up with the moose!



Evidence!  They sell chocolate versions of these at the airport.  Ewwww ...

The weather during the week was actually pretty dreary.  Most days were overcast and damp, with snow flying off and on.  Paul spent the better part of one morning up on the roof, clearing as much snow as he could manage.  The roof is very strong, with sturdy joists, and can take quite a heavy snow load, but it's only sensible to shovel off the worst parts, especially when the layers are over a metre thick! 

It's not so bad when the house is empty and there's no heat, but as soon as you start putting heat through the chimney you get ice forming.  Here are some of the icicles we found outside the bathroom window:



March is a funny month.  In Canada in March the world is still locked in the grip of winter, and yet there's this underlying sense of anticipation, of waiting, as though every living thing is holding its breath.  We looked out of our upstairs bedroom window one day and it was just so quiet.  Everywhere was so utterly still, so lifeless, so grey and frozen, it seemed impossible that there was life anywhere.  And yet, there is life; not only that, there is abundant life.  Here are some of the tracks we found:



Beaver.



Not sure what these are.



Bobcat?



Coyote.



... and a chickadee, enjoying a drink of ice-cold water!

We also saw plenty of rabbit and chipmunk tracks dashing back and forth.  And in case you're wondering what on earth these critters found to eat amongst all that snow and ice, here are a bunch of seed husks left behind after a chipmunk breakfast:



As well, take a look at the lovely juicy red berries on this bush near the pond!



There are plenty of creatures around, just that they are smart enough to spend most of the winter in their warm dens and nests, only venturing out to gather food when they need to.  It's only us ridiculous humans that tramp around in the cold all day!

It was a bit of a drab week, mainly because we were stuck at the house with no means of transport in or out.  Melting snow to flush the toilet, and to get enough water to have a hot shower quickly became a chore.  Of course we were able to run the genny for power, but she is noisy and goes through diesel at quite a pace.  By the time Thursday rolled around we'd had enough, and decided to spend our last night in a hotel.  The hike out (on snowshoes) was a breeze compared to the last time, and I couldn't believe it when the Suburban came into sight; the entire walk had taken us under an hour.

I'm always so sad to leave the house.  I don't know why, but every time we leave I have this fear in the pit of my stomach that I may never be able to come back.  It gets me every time, no matter what the season.  One day, we'll be there for good, and I'll finally be able to say "this is home, and I ain't leavin'."

I must admit though, that the hot shower at the hotel in Sydney was out of this world; and we got there just in time for happy hour at the bar.  I've never been so pleased to see a bottle of Alexander Keith's ...

This is Willow Retreat, signing out, until next time.