After last week's storm, the snow bank in front of the house is back to about where it was on April 1. The gap is 27 inches (about 70 cm) between the bottom of the bird feeder and the top of the snow. You can also see the largely ice-free driveway for which the dogs and the dog walkers are grateful.
27 inch gap. snow melt progress © harrington
We couldn't grab any photos of them yesterday or today, but bufflehead have arrived and are moving through. As this is being written, the outside temperature is in the low 50's. Some members of the household have planted seeds and are anxiously awaiting sprouting. Others keep finding what, in person, appear to be undersized compost bins, suggesting a home-made solution may be needed. We're all also working on the question of where the beehives and the chicken coop should go, remembering that locations that are convenient in summer may not be so with a foot or two of snow on the ground. The same issue is playing out with the "permanent" location for the compost bin. Country living at its best is a four season affair. The pond up the road hasn't yet reached open water, but it's getting close.
early Spring pond © harrington
The PondDowncast thermometers record one truth
of winter, through the clear light hints of spring.
The furnace blows a warming reverie
where I drop anchor somewhere in the woods
with a girl I haven't seen for twenty years.
I find the pond secluded in the park,
filled by a waterfall beside a bluff
where we held hands and jumped, yelling love,
laughing to find ourselves alive again
and young as always, touching each other's skin.
Tonight the temperature is due to fall
an arctic stillness settle on the prairies...
The years slow down and look about for shelter
far from forests and far from summer ponds:
the mind ghosting out in a shoal of stars.
Thanks for visiting. Come again when you can.
Please be kind to each other while you can.