When I start a blog post, I usually put a “place-holder” title on it because great titles don’t just pop into my head (I still have no title for The Damn Garden Book) so I have to wait until the end of the writing to squeeze something appropriate out of my brain. But today I’m leaving my place-holder title in place. Another Winter storm is heading our way. And it’s the first day of Spring.
And cardinals really are quite stupid.
The predicted snow fall will not make life hard for small woodland creatures. However, the predicted 4 inches will make me, a lesser form of squirrely, really pouty.
These pictures are from the last blizzard of (technically) Winter, on March 4, 2015.
I did not care for that blizzard. But at least Winter has a personality — with all the depths and beauty of a fully-formed season: wordlessly wonderful snowscapes, tingly cold, demon slush, etc. Same with Summer: she keeps you enthralled, from the first firefly, to the scent of the shade of an elm tree, to the last thunderstorm. And Fall! Fall is bursting with personality! Color! Mood! Harvest!
But Spring? Spring starts as a wimpy-ass end of Winter, continues as a sloppy mud fest of thaw, drags its feet getting to warm weather, and flounces around with a few weeks of buds that die and become botanical litter. The best you can say about Spring are those days when you think it looks the most like Summer. It has no real personality of its own, it’s all for show, and it’s mucky.
Spring. The Kim Kardashian of seasons.
So on March 4, I surveyed the situation, which was not to my liking, and predicted that there was no way all that snow could melt by the first day of Spring.
This is my patio on the afternoon of March 5:
This is what my patio looked like on March 18:
This is what that trash can looked like on the morning of March 5:
So big deal. For the first half of the first day of Spring, our patio was snow free. By tomorrow it will be covered with 4 inches of snow.
This is our cardinal, three days ago, hopping amidst the left-over birdseed from the dearly departed snow on the patio:
He’s thinking, Didn’t there used to be food here? Where did it go??? I’m looking everywhere, and it’s gone! Where????
He never did find that tray of fresh birdseed that I had cleverly hidden from him in plain sight.
True story. I watched that cardinal search the whole patio.
This is the back fence stick pile o/a February 20:
This was it on the last Wednesday of Winter:
Yesterday I took this picture of the new hot spot on our patio:
It doesn’t look like much, for now. But wait for it:
This is one happy, Spring-flinging kitty cat.
I don’t have the heart to tell him it’s going to snow today.