Spring is overflowing

Roadside ditches are full of flowing waters. Low areas in farm fields have become ephemeral ponds. Floodplain wetlands and marshes are flooded. Spring and snowmelt have arrived, accompanied by flock after flock of migrating songbirds and waterfowl.

local creeks flowing more than bankful

Photo by J. Harrington

Several upland fields held a pair or more of sandhill cranes. We can confirm seeing the first robin of the season. The Better Half shared a photo she took of a butterfly. And yet, it was quite disconcerting to drive back roads with the window down in the Jeep, enjoying temperatures over 70℉, while looking at substantial snow cover on many fields, in many wooded areas, and residual snow banks along ditches.

The melting snow in the fields behind the house has revealed a mess made by underground critters during the winter. After the soil has dried, we’ll drag a harrow over the mounds and tunnels that have been turned up. Before we get to that, we’ll collect and burn garden carts full of dropped, broken, branches and finish picking up the winter’s worth of dog droppings. At least those chores will have us outside enjoying sunshine, warmth, and the opportunity to walk on bare, greening ground.

It will be a few more days before the level of mud in the dog run has diminished to the point where we can let our two out for some free play time and be able to safely let them back into the house. Meanwhile, we’re going to figure out what to wear over the next couple of days as high  temperatures creep into the eighties and then drop back into the fifties over the weekend. If anyone has good, tested, suggestions on how to organize a seasonal wardrobe for that kind of pattern, please drop a note in the comments.

April

By Alicia Ostriker

The optimists among us

taking heart because it is spring

skip along

attending their meetings

signing their e-mail petitions

marching with their satiric signs

singing their we shall overcome songs

posting their pungent twitters and blogs

believing in a better world

for no good reason

I envy them

said the old woman

The seasons go round they

go round and around

said the tulip

dancing among her friends

in their brown bed in the sun

in the April breeze

under a maple canopy

that was also dancing

only with greater motions

casting greater shadows

and the grass

hardly stirring

What a concerto

of good stinks said the dog

trotting along Riverside Drive

in the early spring afternoon

sniffing this way and that

how gratifying the cellos of the river

the tubas of the traffic

the trombones

of the leafing elms with the legato

of my rivals’ piss at their feet

and the leftover meat and grease

singing along in all the wastebaskets

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