Mulling things on my morning ramble
with Storm, the family's mixed Lab.
The meathead and I can still stand on the drifts outside of town.
Wind-packed and frozen, the drifts remain defiant in the face of the much ballyhooed warm-up.
The 35 or 40 degrees yesterday felt a lot warmer than it was much of last week, but it is not exactly melting weather.
It's been a slow go to no snow, other than in patches wind-swept clean where the sun can warm the darkness of exposed earth.
I am confident the melting will come later this week.
An ice fisherman has ventured out for the past couple days on the town pond. His tracks were filled with refrozen slush this morning, even though the temperature was right at freezing or even slightly above.
One of the big changes I have noticed over the past decade of rambling around the town pond is how many robins hang around all year in the brush and trees near the old rail trail.
The days of robins signifying spring are long gone.
That's one of those questions I need to ask an expert about some time.
Doves hang around the town pond, too, all winter. But they have the good sense to go into town to the feeders when the snow thickens and sticks like it has the past couple weeks.
Back in town, I walked carefully, the bit of melting yesterday left puddles that froze into tricky surfaces in alleys and side streets.
It's that time.
At least the sun was already coming up before 7 this morning.
I keep plodding.