It was a calm, cloudless night; the sky was black except for the stars, millions of them. New moon meant that the edge of the Milky Way was obvious in the blackness of the setting.
We had taken our snow machines across the street from our mobile home to the huge bog surrounding Buchans, Newfoundland, where we lived. We were prepared to boil the kettle, or in this case the old juice can, have a cup of switchel, plain black tea, over an open fire in the countryside.
We could see the lights of Buchans in the distance as we stopped to take in the view. Within a few minutes, Rick started a fire and added tea bags to the 'kettle' which by now contained a few twigs and soot as well. The tea had a taste unique to the setting. The fire added to the beauty as sparks drifted upward, drawing the eye with them. Despite the bitter cold our little spot seemed cozy. The only things missing were the Northern Lights. However, sitting on the snowmobile seats there, I swear we could hear the earth hum.
We did this periodically, enjoying the time of year when the daylight left us so early that the night seemed endless. When we went snowmobiling though, the nights weren't long enough to take in the beauty of our place in the universe.
Buchans was a place where you could enjoy nature in winter because it was so easy to access. We haven't been snowmobiling in years. Winter just isn't the same.