One day, many years ago, my father wrote me a note,  “Today I made like Jesus and walked on water.” He stepped right out of the kitchen door of his houseboat— a door that led to a narrow ledge whence you might get into a real boat —  and walked across the frozen canal. The same door from which I watched rowers fly by and ducks charge each other over a crust of bread during Boris’ last weeks on earth.

Today I got to walk on water of another ilk. Recent rain, melt, and freeze-ups have created a 16-inch airy snow cake that, according to my friend Mike, is perfect for building igloos. (So he built one.) Perfect for snowshoeing on top of the world, taller than before by a foot and a half.

For much of the last month, getting into the woods was a slough. The snow fell cold and in tiny tiny flakes,  too tiny for the crystals to compact. It remained cold. Snowshoeing became a trudge through fine snow like loose, deep, sand. Crashing down almost 10 inches with every step. Here and there on the bog, you could wallow in 2 1/2 feet of it. On top of brushy growth it was more.

One day, the hound wandered off across the bog while I was lying on my belly trying to take a photograph. He could hardly get back, kept getting stuck in snow over his head. It took fifteen minutes and many encouraging promises of cookies and candies and chips for him to make it through. Why did you do this to me?, he said when he finally made it. Took the cookie though.

[The photos are from my father's  kitchen door, paddling the spring freshet overflow in Northampton, and the Plainfield landscape this past month or so More below the photo gallery]

The photos may be ordered as cards and prints except where noted.
Browse the Galleries for more.

Duck at the Kitchen Door(5 x 7 card, matted print up to 8 x10)

Rowing the Roman Limes (5 x 7 card, matted print up to 8 x10)

Car Carrier (5 x 7 card, matted print up to 8 x10)

Spring Freshet 1 (5 x 7 card and matted print)

Spring Freshet 2 (5 x 7 card and matted print)

Fence in the Rain ( 5 x 7 card, matted print up to 11 x 14)

Still Life with Reed ( 5 x 7 card, matted print up to 11 x 14)

Late Winter Landscape (5 x 7 card, matted print up to 11 x 14)

March on the Bog (5 x 7 card, matted print up to 11 x 14)

Landscape by Beaver (5 x 7 card, matted print up to 11 x 14)

Soon… (5 x 7 card, matted print up to 11 x 14)

Calamus in Ice (5 x 7 card, matted print up to 8 x 10)

Colin, Ethan, and Mike’s Igloo (not for sale)

But now! Now we are flying on top of the world. Sometimes barely leaving a trace other than the claws, we swerve from one frozen rivulet to the other, curious to see all that was kept from us for so long. This is what we were waiting for! Some of the free-est walking of the year in this muddy boggy world. Today, we saw an otter slide, plenty of evidence of muskrats, and visited a beaver lodge we rarely get to frequent, ensconced in the middle of an intricate network of reeds and channels. The beavers were home. Tomorrow we’ll do it again. So we, woman and beast, walk on air and water for a few days, and after that.…

Winter has announced her departure and is brushing her hair to get out the door. The snow cover is subsiding. But the amount of water in that snow is at its very peak at more than five inches. Most every inch of the ground is covered in snow that contains a five-inch tall column of water. If it weren’t snow, it would be more than ankle deep. More than was running on this hillside during the very heaviest rain from hurricane Irene.

We all know what can happen when a big rain takes it all away in one fell swoop. It’s called a “spring freshet.” The great spring freshet of 1936 went into downtown Northampton and scoured hillsides across most of the eastern US. (video)

I vote that we keep that disappearing word. And the snow? It won’t be long now, a week, maybe two.