late February 2017 - swans, geese and open water at Carlos Avery
Photo by J. Harrington
|
It's no doubt a sign that we've lived in this cold North Country too long that, instead of sensibly pulling a blanket over ourselves and sleeping until warmer weather arrives, this afternoon we're going looking for open water and swans. The Better Half is coming along to serve as navigator, and we may even check out some trout fishing locales if the opportunity presents itself.
For several years we've been coming across occasional mentions of overwintering swans on the St. Croix, near where the Willow River enters. Today we're going to see if we can find any. We're also going to test for some routes to a few of western Wisconsin's trout streams. Instead of complaining about the cold, or hiding from it, we'll bundle up, turn up the heater in the Jeep, and go exploring. If nothing else, it'll get us away from the news and social media, each of which tends to make our blood run cold these days.
According to the National Phenology Network, Spring this year is running noticeably behind last year's arrival for most of the country. We're not sure if volatility in temperature patterns is an indicator of climate change, but we've noticed a roller coaster effect over the past few weeks highs and lows. Maybe a slow start will be offset by a rapid warming? Hope lives eternal.
Mailboxes in Late Winter
It’s a motley lot. A few still standat attention like sentries at the endsof their driveways, but more leanaskance as if they’d just received a blowto the head, and in fact they’ve receivedmany, all winter, from jets of wet snowshooting off the curved, tapered bladeof the plow. Some look wobbly, cockedat oddball angles or slumping forlornlyon precariously listing posts. One boxbows steeply forward, as if in disgrace, its doorlolling sideways, unhinged. Others are dented,battered, streaked with rust, bandaged in duct tape,crisscrossed with clothesline or bungee cords.A few lie abashed in remnants of the very snowthat knocked them from their perches.Another is wedged in the crook of a treelike a birdhouse, its post shattered nearby.I almost feel sorry for them, worn outby the long winter, off-kilter, not knowingwhat hit them, trying to hold themselvestogether, as they wait for news from spring.
********************************************
Thanks for visiting. Come again when you can.
Please be kind to each other while you can.
No comments:
Post a Comment