Over the weekend the temperature dipped into the low twenties. Nevertheless, my south-side crocusses are in full-bloom, and some little critter has nipped off all the yellow ones. Bless your hunger, little one.
My friend Dana Knighten tells today's story like this: What a glorious bright day it is! Patches of snow, blue-white in the shadows where they are tucked up into the roots of trees. Light shining from the silky green needles of the pines at the top of our neighbor's drive. A pool of meltwater atop the old picnic table on my side deck, shining like beach sand in the intertidal zone after a wave swashes back to the sea. I can hear a bird singing in the treetop outside my office. And oh, glory! the twigs of the maples in the old swamp on Good Prospect Farm are reddening up. Something is afoot, and I call it life.
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