Tuesday's Travels

The third sunny day in a row - we could get spoiled. In an effort to push myself a bit more, hoping to shed the winter pounds as well as the corona-blahs, I headed up to the Bend in the Road again, for the second time this week. It's about a four mile walk, round trip, and it even got quite warm on the sunny side of the road (the only way to stay away from cyclists who don't announce themselves, nor do they make an attempt to keep any distance, is to walk on the side of the road, facing traffic of course).

The shad bush is blooming - a sure sign that spring will continue to roll on through, world crisis or not, as well as an age-old announcement that the herring are running. 

A Pool of Daffodils

A poem by Alison Boylston Piazza.

Every winter, year after year,

We wait for signs of spring to appear,

As we struggle through wind and snow and frost.

But then, when it seems all hope is lost,

A fountain of forsythia spills

Into a pool of daffodils.

First Day of Spring

Well, I didn't quite find the sea of purple and white I had anticipated finding today in my Main Street yard - maybe crocuses are cyclical, or maybe they bloomed last week while I was gone, or maybe something ate them; I'm seeing nibbles here - nonetheless, I was rather delighted to have blown into town on a first-day-of-spring snow-storm.

If you look closely, you'll see a few flakes on the bloom in the photo. It's not that unusual for it to snow at this time of year around here, actually. Today - March 21 - is the same date that I buried my mother, nineteen years ago, and I remember very distinctly that it snowed on that day, too.

Spring Fever                     By Alison Boylston Piazza

Crocuses are blooming, 

Spring is in the air,

So why am I still wearing 

My winter underwear?

In mittens, scarf and jacket,

Woolen cap and socks,

What a way to celebrate

The vernal equinox!