S’now longer amusing

Melting snow, still frozen ground, other than the top inch or two, brings puddles and mud to the driveway where it intersects the road. I’m resisting an urge to try spreading a dark brown tarp over the ice near the garage to see if that accelerates melting ice at the western end of the drive. Getting the tarp out of the way so we can drive in and out of the garage seems more trouble than it’s worth. Maybe Santa will bring a flame thrower for Christmas or we’ll get the drive blacktopped so we can avoid this hindrance to safe perambulation next spring.

I believe we’re close to entering the top ten records for the longest stretch of consecutive days with at least one inch of snow cover at the Twin Cities airport. It’s no wonder I’m getting so giddy about sunny, warm days melting snow and ice. It’s been a long, snowy, winter, even for the North Country.

how long until budburst?

Photo by J. Harrington

We missed what’s been reported as a spectacular aurora display last night. I’m not sure what the dogs might have made of it and I regret missing it, but almost every time there’s an alert and we watch, we see nothing! I’m not sure if I’d still be an angler if I’d gone fishing 99 times and caught nothing any of those times.

Another sign of spring’s arrival occurred today. I began the cleanup of the dogs’ winter deposits. First I had to dig the scooper out of a snow bank on the south side of the garage. That’s done and we’ll be more likely to enjoy sunny episodes of cleanup along the road as we progress into spring. I mentioned to the Better Half that a great birthday present would be a robotic poopba, like a roomba but for cleaning up after dogs. I’m not sure if such a thing has been invented yet but I bet there’d be a market, especially if it could follow along as folks walked their dogs in places like city parks and trails where prompt pickup is legally mandated.

Near Spring Equinox 

Jeanetta Calhoun Mish

A ruby crocus near the porch sends up
hope—winter of sorrow is waning
the dire moon of almost-spring rises
full with promise of renewal,
shaming twinkling city lights in its splendor. 

I search for my faith, wonder where
I lost it, find it in deep cinnamon
mud smushing up between my toes.
Across a spent field, a lake in shadow
serenades curvature of earth.
As if on cue, a comet streaks
across somber roiling river of sky. 

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