it isn’t that winter keeps reappearing, it’s that it does so in an unusable form. wet, sloppy snow and indecisive temperatures. too warm for fleece and too cold for bermuda shorts hiked up to my rib cage. today, being outdoors is far less desirable than sitting in my chair with the raw cookie dough and a pair or comfort waist jeans pondering life and the stanley cup.
winter is now a post-it note, reminding us of its power and indifference, and its ability to take us back to the below zero temperatures of january when, if only for a brief moment, we wished for warmth and green; the moment we surrendered.
winter is a bitch.
rocky is gone. whatever took him from the clutches of decay, did so before the 2″ of snow fell overnight. no tracks. no good-bye.
twenty minutes ago, the first yellow-rumped warbler showed up at my house, eager for the quick energy a trip to the suet cake delivers. they will come in waves now, the first warblers to test the waters of springtime, thousands of miles from their wintering grounds. gotta love the migrants.
tonight it’s back to owls after a reprieve last night. the 2-5 inches of snow the arrowhead received has melted along the shore, but with the melt, all the little draws and culverts are alive with water. with the water comes the background noise. with the background noise comes the owler’s need for absolute focus and concentration to pick up the hint of song in the noisy departure of winter (again).
time to coffee up and put away the cookie dough.