Goodrich Loomis Conservation Area -- photo Ruth Mundy
The word graupel is Germanic in origin; it is the diminutive of Graupe, meaning "pearl barley" ...Graupel was first seen in an 1889 weather report and has been whirling around in the meteorology field ever since to describe "pellets of snow" or "soft hail" (the latter phrase is an actual synonym of graupel).
After worship this past Sunday we changed into hiking clothes and headed to the Goodrich Loomis Conservation Area north of Brighton. We were waiting for the forecasted sunshine but it never arrived, and it was cool and blustery. The recent windstorm had stripped most of the leaves off the trees, so it all seemed rather bleak as we set out on what was a six kilometre saunter.
The deeper gift of our walk was auditory rather than visual. It began with the swish of our feet through the thick carpet of leaves and the release of that distinctive aroma of Autumn. There were overtones of childhood in that activity. On the ridge the wind in the branches produced that clacking sound of late Fall and Winter which is very different from the other seasons.
There were birds about as well, the blue jays, and crows offering that bell-like call which is different from other caws and cries. Near the end of our jaunt we first heard and then saw a pileated woodpecker.
Our return to the valley took us along the creek which was often not visible through the cedars yet could be heard. Then we heard an usual hissing advancing through the upper part of the trees before we saw the falling ice pellets known as graupel -- what a great term. It lasted all of three or four minutes, but it was enchanting.
What began as a rather disappointing "exercise-is-good-for-us" outing became an opportunity to reorient ourselves to the sense of sound. Despite our aging ears it was all a gift from the Creator.
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