TheBanyanTree: The Turn Towards Spring

[Margaret R. Kramer]

We’ve managed to make the big turn towards spring.  It’s not always a
calendar thing.  Spring begins to show itself by the way the air feels.
This air is still capable of getting bone chilling cold, but those spells
will be fleeting and the warm air will filter in again.  This week was the
first time this winter that I could feel spring warmth in the air.

Our snowstorms now drop heavy wet snow instead of the wispy, feathery stuff
that blows over the roads and creates black ice.  This snow stays where it
falls.  It can’t move under its own weight.  And when we try to shovel it,
this heavy stuff breaks into ready made snow balls.  As the temperatures
edge lower at night, this snow turns into cement.  It’s unmovable, and until
it warms up again, will retain odd shapes.

My backyard feeders are full of greedy birds fighting for seed in the
mornings.  Their spring songs are replacing the silence of winter.  At
night, we see silhouettes of greedy deer, usually in herds of four or more,
waiting for their chance to suck out the seed and leave the birds nothing
but husks.

I have to fill my car’s window washer fluid constantly and I’ve given up
trying to keep the outside of it clean.  We love sand and salt on the roads
in Minnesota, so my car always has an extra layer of grit.

My long black down filled coat has hung in the closet for a week.  I’ve been
able to wear my lighter fleece jacket.

I’ve raked our roof faithfully this winter, but we didn’t escape water
damage.  It’s in an area that usually doesn’t leak.  We have a circle of
brown on the dining room ceiling.  I raked that part of the roof yesterday
and the circle didn’t get bigger, so I’m hoping a quick paint job later this
spring will do the trick.

And a sure sign of spring’s imminent arrival is setting aside time this
afternoon to do my taxes.

Margaret R. Kramer
margaretkramer at earthlink.net

http://www.polarispublications.com
Be a star!

http://www.bpwmn.org
Business and Professional Women of Minnesota

Nobody has ever measured, even poets, how much a heart can hold.
~Zelda Fitzgerald