There was a recent and amazing stretch of winter that almost made the season's dearth of snow worthwhile. First there were four consecutive days of hoarfrost-birthing fog, captured at work with my camera in an earlier post – and then again here, and here, and here.
And then, when it finally lifted and the sun returned, there was a single brilliant Saturday morning where the frost and crisp blue sky coexisted. I took the camera down to the river to scope things out, and stumbled on a kiddos' outdoor hockey tournament. Much Canadiana ensued.
On the next day we went skiing at Grand Beach. We'd hit up the trails at Birds Hill the previous four weekends because it was the only park nearby reporting decent conditions. But the artificiality of Birds Hill was beginning to wear, and the thicker forests and lack of highway noise of Grand Beach was a decent tonic. It's a beautiful trail network. Next weekend we're heading even farther afield, to Pinawa and the Whiteshell, and I'm excited. I hope the winter doesn't turn on us.