Marching toward open water

The pond North of the property is now more open water than ice-covered. The Sunrise River pools still are fully covered with  ice, but there's at least one place where the ice is noticeably thin. Lots of crows or ravens walking around on the frozen marsh. No signs of waterfowl, yet, nor red-winged blackbirds. Maybe by St.Patrick's Day?

today's neighborhood pond open water

Photo by J. Harrington

The Better Half this morning reported seeing a flock of a dozen or so swans on a large puddle in a cornfield she drove past. We suspect that may have been some of the swans we read about from time to time that winter over on the St. Croix River near Wild River State Park, but we can't be sure. In fact, even if we had seen them ourselves we couldn't be sure if they were natives or migrants but we suspect it's still too early for migrants to arrive. At the moment, Spring remains more promise than reality, although our driveway is almost ice free and the fields behind the house are somethings like 50% to 66% snow free. If we really get rained on tomorrow, will that melt the snow remains?

Stillwater parking lot kite flying

Photo by J. Harrington

The breezes for which March is so often noted are blowing again today from a southerly direction. We need to find a really good kite-flying location somewhere nearby. Our prevailing winds from the North are winter conditions but we need northerly winds to keep from flying our dragon kite toward the trees.

Kites

By Robert Gibb

Come March we’d find them 

In the five-and-dimes, 

Furled tighter than umbrellas 

About their slats, the air

In an undertow above us

Like weather on the maps. 

We’d play out lines

Of kite string, tugging against

The bucking sideways flights. 

Readied for assembly,

I’d arc the tensed keel of balsa 

Into place against the crosspiece,

Feeling the paper snap 

Tautly as a sheet, then lift

The almost weightless body 

Up to where it hauled me

Trolling into the winds— 

Knotted bows like vertebrae 

Flashing among fields

Of light. Why ruin it

By recalling the aftermaths? 

Kites gone down in tatters, 

Kites fraying like flotsam 

From the tops of the trees.

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