Mulling things on my morning ramble
with Storm, the family’s mixed Lab.
In the strictest sense, I am not sure if it was flurrying this morning or snow showering. And did I just invent a meteorological term?
At any rate, it was doing something white and frozen at a light rate.
Enough to sprinkle white bits on my brown fleece. Enough to white car windshields. Enough to dabble white in greening grass.
But it melted on the sidewalks and roadways.
We’re halfway there.
The gravel roads leading to the town pond were unfrozen, sloppy from the rains the day before.
Over a decade of morning rambles, I’ve learned one of the surest signs of spring is the trilling of red-winged blackbirds. This morning I found mutliple ones trilling along the shorelines.
I found four pair of Canada geese staking out what I assume will be their nesting areas. Most years, there are seven pairs nesting. Maybe the others were hidden or elsewhere.
The pair that nests on the island are not on the nest yet. That will come soon, very soon.
On the south end of the town pond, in the shoreline-shaded reaches, an ice cap hung on.
Insistently. Defiantly.
The light snow on the grass is already melted as I type.
