Welcome to spring. The wintry crone casts off her dark shroud and has miraculously transformed into her maiden guise once more. It sounds like spring. There has been a continuous cacophony of birds since 4 am. I was just now cradling a big cup of coffee and watching big, fat snowflakes drifting to the ground in the backyard. There was one big, fat robin poking around amidst the pine cones and twigs for his breakfast. I wonder how much snow will fall today. If I can be lazy and let it melt or if I'll be obliged to shovel it away one more time. The creeping crud in my sinuses has mostly abated and I'm feeling nearly human again. I ventured outside to retrieve the newspapers a few minutes ago. I keep around an old pair of velcro closure snowboots near the backdoor to slip on for brief winter forays into the garage or out in the yard. I think both of the boys wore them, purchased for the elder one, then outgrown and passed to the younger. Way back when their feet were about the same size as mine. I keep them around because they're an easy on and off for going out and back in again, they're a little big for me so I can step right into them even with an armload of recyclables occupying my hands. The snow is sticky, perfect for snowballs and building a snowman or fort if enough accumulates. I must be quite a sight against this white backdrop in my kiddie boots, hot pink sweat pants, plaid flannel nightshirt, and blue ski jacket if anyone happened to be looking. At least I had the hood up to cover my pillowhead hairdo. For right now, it is enough sit here with my coffee and listen to the birds, and watch Newton still as a statue except for his twitching tail, as he observes the birds on the other side of the patio door. Soon there will be cinnamon raisin toast to accompany the coffee. If I don't mop the kitchen floor today the only solution is to rope the area off as a biohazard. Either that or walk around wearing fuzzy socks until all the sticky spots are rendered unsticky. So much for spring housecleaning.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
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Go with the fuzzy socks until your washing machine hates you. I finally saw a Robin two days ago. They are one of my favorite sights this time of year. Reminds me that I must start getting ready for next winter!
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