O dear Spring where are you? I miss you. Ole man Winter has been harsh and holds on. His bloody white shite remains 7' high at the front of me home and is sure to be there into June. The suns rays slowing melt the latest snow but o so much ice remains.
I tire of this dreary landscape Spring. The whiteness blinds all causing downcast eyes with barely a glance up when greeted with a hello. Sigh.
I want, I need to feel the warm earth under me feet, to splash in the puddles, to uncover the tiny green sprigs of the world awakening. To slowly pull back wet worn leaves and find tiny tips of twolips, daffies, crocusi is one of the purest joys I know. For this is life, Spring!
I rest assured the froggies are fast asleep under a 4' cover of snow. Though I ponder will they be stirring soon? Early April The Pond is drained reviving them for the year though this year I fear not. I already miss them and their hijinks, the call of the springpeepers assuring all is well.
Already the Robins have returned warbling your return. Spring, do come soon...