180.5 acres

It's my first time on snowshoes, not counting a day last March when I tried them out on crusted snow, with miserable results. Today the snow is reasonably fresh powder, about a foot of it on the ground, and the shoeing is just great.

The snowshoes are a gift from my wife, Christmas 2011. Here in February 2013, we finally have enough snow to make it worth trying them on. I'm not used to this form of exercise, so it's tiring, but I take my time and stop often for breaks. That includes chatting with a Birch Lake neighbor up from Wausau, an hour from here, visiting for the day to do some remodeling on his cabin down the hill from us.

With permission I cut through his lot down to the lake (our frontage is steep and I don't want to negotiate the 40 or so stairs with these boards on my feet). Where earlier this winter I used to walk the dog, there's now enough snow that it would be a struggle just in boots. Instead, I trudge along ("float over the snow" is not really the right description), leaving big, ovoid tracks, in the process making what seems like the first acquaintance with certain muscles.

Have you ever snowshoed or just walked on your lake in winter? It's like having (if temporarily) a lot more real estate than you actually own -- in our case 180 acres plus the 0.5 on which we pay taxes. Out on the lake snow is a wondrous place to be on a 20-degree, cloudy-bright February Saturday. Recent snowfalls have edge-frosted everything -- pines, oak, cabins -- in a way that reminds me of gingerbread houses.

When I stop crunching over the snow, it's completely quiet, except for the now-and-then putt- putt-putt-putt-roar-putt-putt of an ice auger from near a shanty just out from the point across the lake. There isn't enough wind to make a sound in the trees. In general it is silent enough, if you stop long and listen, almost to give the sensation of falling.

Part of me, on this back slope of winter, can't wait to see warmer days melt off this coat of snow, so I can, for the first time, watch the process of ice going out on a lake. After that we'll still have our extra 180 acres; we'll just have to enjoy them from a boat or canoe, or immersed, with our without flippers, mask and snorkel.

Another part of me has grown to love this white season up north and will have to confess to sadness at seeing it go. In the meantime, I have the snowshoes.