I Think I'll Just Sit Here and Sinter for a Bit

We have a quinzhee at the front of our property, and I think it's pretty awesome.  

For those who might not know, a quinzhee is a shelter made of snow, often reinforced with sticks.  Unlike a more permanent igloo made of blocks, a quinzhee is mostly a pile of snow dug out from the side into the middle.  It's meant to be temporary, usually for the purposes of survival out there in the winter woods.  First nations folk might set that up for an overnight hunting trip.  Or if you live in the city, it can just be for fun, which is the case with ours.

And if you think this is the creative work of sundry and various grandchildren, it's not.  There are some adults around here who thoroughly enjoy winter, and building a quinzhee is an every-winter-we-have-enough-snow bit of seasonal happy.

In looking up all this about quinzhees (even how to spell it), I came across a new word for me.

Sintering.  Wikepedia tells me that it is "the process of compacting and forming a solid mass of material by pressure or heat without melting it to the point of liquification."  It makes more solid what exists first as smaller particles.  And while this is a process applied to the manufacturing of metals, plastics and ceramics, sintering also applies to the more organic way the snow is packed down and 'settles' when you're making a quinzhee.

Is it just me, or is this winter particularly weird?  Ken and I have seen the completion of our house, moved in and set up, the reinstatement of more regular routines, and the end of a long time of transition.  That's on the personal side.  Then, with the rest of Canada, there's been all the big news political stuff.  Our Prime Minister steps down and prorogues parliament.  Our Premier calls a snap election and shuts down the Ontario legislature.  And the US Administration starts an on-again-off-again trade war that has all the news agencies scrambling to keep up just to let us know what's going on.  

That's a lot of swirling pieces blowing around.  Leaves me wishing I could build a survival quinzhee for my soul out here in the wild woods of it all.  To let things settle.  Let things sinter.

Maybe I can.

"You will keep in perfect peace

those whose minds are steadfast

because they trust in You."

Isaiah 26:3

So I sinter in the meditation.  And in my winter walks that now take me up into the trees.  Or in the quiet stretching of late afternoon when my desk work is done and I unhurry myself towards evening.

So curious to see where all this shakes down.  

And how our quinzhee will fare in the winter weeks ahead.