Things Not Seen

A picture is worth a thousand words, yeah? So that’s it. That’s the post. Well, maybe I’ll just add a few words.

You can see the snow for yourself; the temperature is less obvious. It’s cold in Calgary. But not cold enough, I guess, to trigger that Prairie rule of thumb so often offered as consolation, however faint:

At least it doesn’t snow when it’s this cold.

It’s cold enough, though, that what isn’t falling as snow is precipitating out as hoar frost on the otherwise-bare tree branches and on the power lines. Any residual moisture is making ice fog: a hazard to navigation, an obstruction to potential northern-lights viewing, and a transient source of sun dogs. It’s transient because the fog is always swirling, alternately thinning and thickening. In the former mode, it makes sun dogs possible; in the latter mode, it stops transmitting and refracting light and almost obscures the sun altogether.

One way of looking at it is that this unreliability thwarts even a dedicated photographer. Another way is that it protects even an idiotic photographer from stopping the car, stepping out onto a slippy road, and freezing their hands while trying to use the touch screen camera on the phone. Nothing is all good or all bad, or so I’ve been told.

The sun dogs don’t make up for the unseasonal cold–like, what could?–but they make it better, even if just for a moment. And even if I can’t show you this one, you know they’re out there, peeking through the ice fog.

This entry was posted in Feeling Clearly, Laughing Frequently, Photos of Landscapes and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

12 Responses to Things Not Seen

  1. They are a phenomenal delight, however muted. I have seen one sun dog at a time on rare occasions. Your photo shows a pack of five, at least. Thank you for risking frozen digits and pixels on this exceptional shot.

  2. Jim Robertson says:

    I can see a sun dog trying to show its face of the right (?)

    Always a beautiful scene after a fresh snowfall, but a chinook will likely show up and remove the beauty.

  3. Jim Robertson says:

    I lived in Calgary from May 1968 to Sept 1969. Not one chinook came to visit! Only record colds that arrived in the winter of 68/69 and stayed.
    So to me a chinook is a conceptual thing

    • Isabel Gibson says:

      Jim R – I’ve seen what feel like lots of chinooks, but have no feel for how frequent they actually are. A quick Google search suggests that there are about 15 days with chinooks per year, on average, but a chinook can last from just a few hours to a few days. There are lots of people who dread them because the pressure change triggers migraines or sinus headaches.

  4. barbara carlson says:

    Snow forecast for Wednesday here in Ottawa — John can’t wait.
    I can. But it is beautiful and I don’t have to go out in it much.

    • Isabel Gibson says:

      Barbara – Snow is not my favourite, but the deep cold is far worse. It was -25C in Edmonton overnight last night. I’m glad John is anticipating the first snowfall and hope it’s not too cold for painting.

  5. Judith Umbach says:

    You made a contemplative best from what Mother Nature has sent us. You know I like snow on bare branches, always near black against the brightness of the snow piles.

    Chinook tomorrow! Hooray! There must be some good photos from that, even if slush predominates.j

    • Isabel Gibson says:

      Judith – I’ve noticed some snow-on-bare-branches item sin your portfolio. We get so much winter it’s good when we can find beauty in it anywhere.

  6. Tom Watson says:

    You can see the snow but not the temperature. Agreed.
    The last time I was in Alberta it was -42. No snow. No wind. You couldn’t see the temperature but you surely could feel it.
    Tom

    • Isabel Gibson says:

      Tom – -42? That’s dreadful.I just want to stay inside when it’s that cold, but that’s hard to manage when we’re in town specifically to visit family.

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