The clouds of the preceding night, instead of dissolving into snow,
brought on a rapid thaw. A thaw in the middle of winter is the most
disagreeable change that can be imagined. After several weeks of clear,
bright, bracing, frosty weather, with a serene atmosphere and cloudless
sky, you awake one morning surprised at the change in the temperature;
and, upon looking out of the window, behold the woods obscured by a
murky haze--not so dense as an English November fog, but more black
and lowering--and the heavens shrouded in a uniform covering of
leaden-coloured clouds, deepening into a vivid indigo at the edge of the
horizon. The snow, no longer hard and glittering, has become soft and
spongy, and the foot slips into a wet and insidiously-yielding mass at
every step. From the roof pours down a continuous stream of water,
and the branches of the trees collecting the moisture of the reeking
atmosphere, shower it upon the earth from every dripping twig. The
cheerless and uncomfortable aspect of things without never fails to
produce a corresponding effect upon the minds of those within, and casts
such a damp upon the spirits that it appears to destroy for a time all
sense of enjoyment. Many persons (and myself among the number) are made
aware of the approach of a thunder-storm by an intense pain and weight
about the head; and I have heard numbers of Canadians complain that
a thaw always made them feel bilious and heavy, and greatly depressed
their animal spirits.
I had a great desire to visit our new location, but when I looked out
upon the cheerless waste, I gave up the idea, and contented myself with
hoping for a better day on the morrow; but many morrows came and went
before a frost again hardened the road sufficiently for me to make the
attempt.
The prospect from the windows of my sister's log hut was not very
prepossessing. The small lake in front, which formed such a pretty
object in summer, now looked like an extensive field covered with
snow, hemmed in from the rest of the world by a dark belt of sombre
pine-woods. The clearing round the house was very small, and only just
reclaimed from the wilderness, and the greater part of it covered with
piles of brushwood, to be burned the first dry days of spring. The
charred and blackened stumps on the few acres that had been cleared
during the preceding year were every thing but picturesque; and I
concluded, as I turned, disgusted, from the prospect before me, that
there was very little beauty to be found in the backwoods. But I came to
this decision during a Canadian thaw, be it remembered, when one is wont
to view every object with jaundiced eyes.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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