Spring is taking it’s time getting here, like it lost its way, stumbling about.
Mornings are cold and damp. Not really raining; just steady dripping from eaves and limbs, buds closed up tight. Hills and valleys stay swallowed in fog.
It came down all day and all night, whistling in the chimney, blowing in under the eaves, onto the porch and woodpile. And down collars. The wet kind, that sticks to limbs and bark and poles and wire.
The maples are already in bud, and the narcissus and daffodils are up, now all pushing up snow.
Only three weeks ‘til Spring.
Snowed last night.
It’s funny, the hills and Blue Ridge spend all year a hazy blue-grey – sometimes more grey, sometimes more blue. There’s a brief period on clear days in Spring when they’re mottled greens, and in the fall there’s a week or so when they’re rusty. But after fresh snow is when they suddenly stand up and want to be noticed.
First mark of Winter.
In just a week or so, a flock of robins will be here, and will spend a few days stripping the Holly tree of berries. They’ll start at the top and slowly work their way down, leaving no berries behind. Then they’ll leave.
But for now, the berries are glazed with ice.
Days grow longer by increments now. Light, gaining strength, lingers on the rim of hills a bit longer each evening, before slipping back down to black. Some nights the twilight spreads all the way around the horizon, like a red hem on winter‘s star-sequined gown.
Took some photos on the way home, shivering, so cold I couldn’t feel my finger on the shutter.
Cattails in winter twilight
It’s been really cold lately. On Saturday, when I went down to the shop, it was 4 below. I don’t remember it being that cold here. In other parts of the country, New England and the Midwest, it dipped into the -30’s. My folks marveled it was snowing at the beach in South Carolina.