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March 6, Sunday. There is a bit of rain in the forecast. It’s going to be windy, about 50 degrees, cloudy, with rain in the afternoon. So Penelope starts her watch (for rains):

I go into the backyard, to do some first-hand meteorology.

Yep.

It looks like rain.

And it’s so warm that I think to myself, “Somebody better get out there and photograph the last signs of Winter before they’re all gone.”

I look around.

I guess that somebody is me.

So I take a walk into the neighborhood known as The Heights.

I’m looking for the Last Signs of Winter.

It’s not pretty. Those last bits of Winter are not pretty.

But this has to be the saddest bit of left-over Winter on Long Island:

All the sadder because this Last Sign of Winter actually has its own sign:

But, as usual, I needn’t have wandered so far from home because all the information that I need about life (or the melancholy Last Signs of Winter) is right in my own backyard:

This  (see above) is all that remains of this:

That’s nature’s ice-box, right there, about four feet of heavenly freeze, the best champagne-cooler I ever had. And I am oh, so sorry to see it go.

Loose a snow bank, gain a step-child: The feral cat that I call Bibs is healing nicely and I’ve let him loose again. I will miss his twice-daily crappings in his bed linens while he recuperated in my kitchen but like the seasons, there is a time for house-guest cats to mosey on.

I’m glad that he seems, for the time being, to be happy to hang out in the backyard.

He’s even gone so far as to face the family of cats who had first dibs on the realm…

…and apply for membership into the clan.

(Decision is pending.)

Me, meanwhile, I am thinking how much I dislike Spring. It’s my least favorite season and here it comes, no stopping it now, trying to horn in on our Winter bliss, trying to make us believe that it’s time to give up all this icy beaty and purity:

for some crummy signs of Spring:

As we used to say in 1974:

Big Whoop.

For the record, this is how Winter went away at my house:

And then it was all gone.

Happy #@**!+ Spring, everyone.

14 comments to The last snow day.

  • Oh, how I laughed at all this, especially ‘the crummy signs of spring’! (Not to mention the tea-bag…)

  • This piece was in keeping with the theme of WWCTR; walking around the ‘hood and noticing things we ordinarily miss.
    We like to see what Long Island looks like. Land of Lindsey Lohan’s childhood, Judge Judy, Theodore Roosevelt, Barbra Streisand,….. who else?
    And, do you ever see anyone that would be recognizable in a magazine?
    Beautiful Penelope keeping watch out for ‘rains’. Sweet.
    A “Vivian” touch. It was perfect for this piece.

  • Deborah

    Those BLUE PEEPS will keep me smiling and laughing all day!

  • Sallyann

    I have often said that I love all the seasons except one no one ever mentions: MUD season. It is that short period of time that come between winter and the real spring (the one that is filled with mild sunny days, tulips, daffodils, and crocus in full bloom) It is that season where everything looks “crumby” and like a season’s pig pen. it is too cold to garden, too warm for snowmen.

    I love your feline friends. My Miss Abbey often sits by the window. I wonder what goes through her mind.

    Thanks so much for sharing your transition period between winter and spring.
    Sallyann

  • JOAN

    When I lived in MI for four years, a transplant from balmy San Diego, spring meant mud and slush which I hated. Mud was everywhere, in the house, on the floors, on the boots, in the car. UGH…now I see that it has it’s own season, perfectly described by SallyAnn. I do remember the MUD pages in WWCTR…also perfectly described and illustrated by you Vivian. Who knew there were so many varieties.

    I heard on the news this morning (Mon) there’s a storm approaching New England that will dump up to 30 inches of SNOW on those poor folks.

    I do remember having a snowfall on Easter Sunday in the middle of April in one of the years I lived in MI. I sat at the kitchen table and sobbed my heart out…visions of sunny beaches, surf/sand, tans, umbrellas. That’s when I made my mind up that I would never live where weather came with a shovel attached.

  • JOAN

    I forgot to mention your sweet kitty watching for signs of rain…it’s nice to have your own built-in weather watcher, storm chaser. What a sweet face she has.

    I stopped by the PetCo near my house where the SPCA no kill shelter was having kitty adoptions. Sadly, most of the kitties needed homes without other animals, so none came home with me.

    I’m missing my sweet boy, KitterPye so much. My husband said to me the other day…we need another cat. That surprised me since none of the cats have ever taken to him!

  • Nadine

    It’s not over yet! We could get a March storm. I remember several Opening Days for baseball being canceled due to April snow. Let’s not get cocky.

    Good to see that Penelope is on the job.

  • I love that you take care of the feral cats. Thank you for that- it warms my heart. As do the signs of spring you showed. We had grass yesterday. And 18 inches of snow this morning!

  • Sallyann: Vivian has a complete run-down of possible MUDS in WWCTR. Page38. It’s a treat.
    When I showed this book to the men where I work, they BOTH refered to the mud page. Go figure.

  • The old joke here in Maine – we have three seasons: winter, mud, and construction.

    Hodge the Cat is sitting in the window right now, surveying the dusk. Still much snow here, but melting fast.

  • That tea bag by the snow melt had me laugh out loud. It totally caught me by surprise. Here in Seattle I crave spring. The head of each little dark purple crocus is welcome because I need me some sunshine.

  • Jeannie

    I love how Bib’s little tongue is poking out in that 2nd photo. I loved the photo essay on the last remnants of winter. You never know, Mom Nature seems to be a bit cranky and a little snow may still fall. Keep the champagne handy.

  • Gitana and Jeannie
    I’m glad others read Vivian in early morning hours
    1) Vivian always measures via teabag.
    2) I noticed the tongue, too. How sweet.
    Bibs is a dear. I hope the clan lets him “in”.

  • Oh I know that black crusty snow all too well. It IS sad I must say. Here in Burgundy the willows are already greenish, the forsythia is halfway out. As a displaced Canadian it amazes me that spring actually comes when it’s supposed to in some places, remarkable! Thanks for the reminder to be grateful for early spring!

    XO
    B

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