Snow creates beautiful scenes

In the summer when I fly to Toronto or Calgary, on a clear day I can look out the airplane window and marvel at the patchwork quilt of crops below me.
I have flown to Calgary and, looking down, have marveled at the brilliant yellow canola plants right up next to a field of blue flax.
I suspect that an agronomist would be able to look out the same window and define which fields were barley, or wheat, or oats, or soy on the green of the leaves.
In the fall, one can travel west through the Prairies and identify wheat, oats, barley, and soybeans in the fields. From the air, one sees slightly different shades of brown.
One can look down at the changing season and see the multi-colours of the leaves.
Flying from Fort Frances to Thunder Bay on Bearskin, I have looked out the window and followed the block cutting of the forest companies. Within a few years, the ground is choked with young evergreen plants.
On Sunday, I drove to Winnipeg with my wife. Between here and there, the region only had received a light sprinkling of snow, which defined the pattern of the harvest or the seeding.
The straw that had not been plowed in defined each row. Corn was wider than wheat.
The snow also defined the pattern of chiseling and disking the fields. Each field held its own pattern. The black pieces of earth defined the lines that either the chisels took or the disks.
The seeding followed strict grid lines. Where fields were disked, often the disking followed the shape of the land to maintain drainage patterns.
Sometimes, as you drove along, a clear line of two or three stems jutted out of the earth. It marked where the combine operator was momentarily just a fraction of an inch out of alignment during the harvest.
Snow fell overnight. The winds drifted the flakes across the fields and the patterns were lost for the year. In place, waves of snow built up across the fields.
It was a new pattern, not as precise or accurate as the patterns of the day before but the blue white snow created an equally beautiful scene. The snow had blown in from the southwest.
If we looked south into the recently-plowed fields, you could see the chunks of black earth jutting out against the white snow surrounding them. If you looked north to fields on the other side of the road, the black chunks were totally hidden.
The trees were heavily-dusted with snow on their windward side, but were totally green on the lee side.
In less than a day, the landscape was totally changed.
From the air, one could not have seen the patterns on Sunday nor the waves of snow cresting across prairie fields on Monday, just like you wouldn’t see the blanket of the land made up from a patchwork of crops from the road.

Facebooktwitterredditpinterestlinkedinmail