On April 3 and 4 the snow fell and fell, as did the temperature, until finally it rested at 8° F and sun. What had been nearly a complete melt, the dark side of slopes and plow bergs excepted, the earth had reappeared, as did our fixings, and the mud. In a meteorologic one two, the snow came to nearly a foot, and our fixings are once again covered. In the past three years, by this time, I've already begun to shed my winter weight, pulling garlic mustard, trimming fallen trees, walking the woods, spotting emergent ephemerals, and of course, the garlic was up.
Instead, I'm watching the savanna plants tawny dereliction, and the further blueing of shadows, and the weary feet of squirrels who are at the very tops of trees tearing into buds.
After all, it was over 6 weeks ago when the winter flies came on the scene, and not long after, the flock of
northerly migrating robins, as if they could smell the dipteran meal on the northwesterlies.
And here, again, they arrive. Second flush, depart and return? Maybe spring, this time.
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