Awakening #2

March 14, 2026

Yesterday the temperature approached seventy. Except for an occasional clump one would never know it had snowed. All of a sudden (It surely seemed like all of a sudden) a flock of robins appeared on the back lawn, hopping and pecking, carefully keeping their distance. First there was one; then there were a dozen, each separated by a dozen feet or so. What a sign of Spring that was! Then, just as suddenly, the snow began to sprinkle and the robins disappeared, like a magician waved his hanky and shazam. Today it’s back to freezing but not below - a blessing. I’d like to talk about how beautiful the day is except it isn’t. It’s dismal. I’d rather the creek be clear and tumultuous rather than muddy and mawkish. I’d rather the air be crisp rather than the aroma of mud but mud means Spring and melt means Spring and Spring, yeah, man, whether we know it or not, is finally here. The leaves of the rhododendron have flattened to catch the sun, and the buds of the forsythia are popping. Soon, they say, soon.

Marmot, a weasel like creature with a tawny coat, comes under the category of never having been seen before. After forty-three years, I can cross that off my list. Just saw one skittering across the road. Also, when the creek was full, saw a mink skipping from mogul to mogul. Today is a good day to burn apple wood in the fireplace. Its aroma is subtle but distinct, and it burns like iron. We have a stack of it due to a blow down from a storm last Winter, but I’ve been very parsimonious with it because I deem it such a treasure, saved for and savored by friendly neighbors who drop in for a chat. I had a dear friend whose father’s mantra was, “It’s a good life if you don’t weaken.” Tru dat.