Friday, February 23, 2018

I think we have survived another winter on the river in Saxonville.  It’s only the 23rd of February, but the snows this month have been light and intermittant, punctuated by mild, often wet weather—even a couple of remarkably warm, springlike days this week.  Yesterday we were treated to a sudden drop in temperature, as light rain turned to sleet, and then to sticky white snow.  There wasn’t much, but it freshened up the scenery, outlining the branches in white, and the sun obliged by shining on them for a while this morning.

The writing projects for this ‘blog pile up in my mind, but distractions intervene, courtesy of the Internet and the lure of commenting on political blogs, but also the radio show, and more happily the Joe Val Bluegrass Festival.  Next week, I’ll get back here, for sure.  The morning was worth a brief stroll with the Rebel T2i (+ Tamron 18-270).  Despite the coating of snow, or maybe because of it, it felt like Spring.  The birds were already carrying on—maybe they had been, but we’ve mostly had the heat on.  I’m looking forward to waking up with the widows open (and lower gas bills).  But it will be a while yet; it’s still February in New England.

Here are a few pics (for higher-resolution versions, go to Flickr, HERE):

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Prettying up a bush decimated last fall by caterpillars.

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It really does look like Spring, but those aren’t flowers!

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Still Winter here in the side yard, with firewood and the covered Casita (see HERE).

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Startling, but transitory.

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Easy to trace all the lines in this tangle.

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The short path down to the river.

 

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Ever-Green.

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Painted brush.

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Down at dock, still a little ice at the edge of the river in our bay.

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Snow on the water.

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The view from our dock.  I have a million photos of this scene, in every conceivable season.

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Across the river, the sun has already melted the snow. . .

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. . . but not on our side.

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Still Life with Tree (see, a title like that makes me an Artist!).

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High atop a still-leafless tree, a Cardinal sings to stake out his turf.  Of course, he was here all Winter.  So were the geese.  The Spring birds are not back yet.

 

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