A group of thoughtful souls aesthete
For whom Nature was irreplete
Without a comment duly served,

Was suddenly found lacking speech.
(A change of season unobserved
Left distant readers quite unnerved.)

Nothing in the winter's blur
Was odd enough to cause a stir.

And no one grieved of Fall's defeat,
The winter's reign was so complete.

11 responses total.

    I comtemplated making sound
    Like the erstwhile Ezra Pound
    Complaining with a fulsome din
    That "Winter is Icumin In",

    But took instead to silent mourn
    Nature yet again unborn,
    Take comfort 'midst the icy blasts
    In knowing that they too shall pass.

Then let's take Eliot's musing:
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.

The sun is shining.

But not enough to warm things up.

<yawn>

Correct - it is still hibernation time - but I hear some stirring
(that sounded like <yawn>). I have noticed in the last couple of days
that the sun is setting later, but we're not out of the freezeup yet.

I saw something funny yesterday.  We have some squirrels that like to
hang out on our deck.  Yesterday, one of these little critters was
gnawing on a chunk of ice.  This is probably not a very rare occurrence,
but it's the first time I've seen this behavior and it cracked me up.

It was also a great day for birdwatching.  On my two trips out to the 
mailbox, I spotted a hawk (I think it was a sharp-shinned, but it
was too high for me to be sure) and a red-headed woodpecker.

The squirrel was probably thirsty, Dan!

I know why he was eating the ice; I'd just never seen it before.

I spotted another hawk today.  It flew right in front of me as I was
driving down 14.

(I just attempted to relate a muskrat story here, but it';s too darned hard
to respond on Grex anymore)

Ahh, it's good to see that things are starting to stir again.

I imagine the squirrels that used to pilfer the birdseed on my balcony
last winter (and eat ice, too-- I spent too much time watching them, I
know) -- have found another place to forage since I moved.

Last winter I stopped driving to work and started taking the bus, and
so i found myself walking a block or two to the bus stop each morning
in the predawn moments, which was about my only contact with outdoors
until after dark.  When Spring struck I was amazed at how clearly the
transition became, compared to when I was driving: suddenly birds were
back, chirping and almost disturbing my formerly silent walk to the 
bus.  The dark walk became gradually lit.  When I was sealed up in my
car, there was almost nothing (in terms of first-hand experience) that
made me really *believe* winter had ended, except that I didn't have to
turn my headlights on.  These transitions occur well before the weather
gets warm enough to make everyone else recognize the passing of winter.

Response not possible - You must register and login before posting.

- Backtalk version 1.3.30 - Copyright 1996-2006, Jan Wolter and Steve Weiss