Sunday, April 16, 2023

The Aftermath

We’ve been very busy. Watching the snow melt.

Time has this annoying habit of moving on - caring very little about my opinions on the matter. 

Moving quickly when I would much prefer time to stand still. 

Moving at a snail's pace when fast would be good. Great, even. Let's put this long, cold winter behind us. 

We had 400 inches of snow this winter.

I'm happy to report that Spring has arrived in the mountains. You can hear it with the cheerful serenade of returning songbirds. We’re back! What’s for breakfast? 

Maybe a Finch?

Even when you’re buried beneath mountains of snow, you can see that Spring has arrived. Feel it. A warmer morning light, a softer, gentler breeze. A kinder angle to the glaring sun. Bluer skies. 

In the ditch, the driest area of the property, tiny green Daffodil shoots are popping up in the mud. Always makes me smile when I see how much growing happens beneath the deep drifts. Snow is a fine insulator. 

The view from my window. The view from up here.

You can also tell it's springtime by the “Urgent! Avalanche!" warnings popping up on my phone. [Argh. Will this ever end?] 

And then it did. End, that is.

Two weeks of exceptionally warm weather, snows rapidly melting. Spring has arrived! As indicated by the new warnings on my phone: “Urgent: Flash Flooding!” 

I'm showing you a picture of my living room ↑ because I am so very proud of this old house. It weathered the plentiful storms. Roofs collapsed, from the weight of the snow, on newer homes, near me. But this place. The oldest house in the neighborhood. Did just fine.

And, of course, the dog ran away. The most predictable sign of spring. 

6-foot fences in our backyards are no match for 15+ feet of snow. Charlie glided easily over the fence and kept on running. Embarking on a life of crime, he returned home with this chicken.  - >

That was the funniest part of this epic snowfall winter. All the neighbors making the same - daily - announcements: Lost dog! Lost dog! 

They're not lost. They're up on the sledding hill, having the time of their lives. 

So that's what's happening in my neck of the woods. Just sitting around, watching the snow melt. Wondering when, if ever, those Daffodils will start to bloom.