It’s beginning. Ever-so-slowly…after nine feet of snow, it’s bound to be slow. But after several weeks of warmish weather and a regular drip, drip, drip, things are gradually starting to reappear in our yard.
The path that we have trudged along in snow and slid along on ice, is now brown, squishy and oozing.
The remains of our autumn rush to get the house weather tight, are rearing their ugly heads, in the form of piles of scrap wood, abandoned saw horses, random trash and goodness only knows what else is lurking out there, just waiting to be revealed.
In truth, our yard is quite ugly right now, as layer after layer of snow melts away, reveling layer after layer of sawdust, sand and ash. The debris of a two seasons worth of fires and a long winter of trying to make our ways easier to navigate, traction being the key!
By far, the most delightful development, is the happily rushing, gurgling creek. It’s a joy to my ears that have been eager for the sounds of spring. It runs alongside both of our houses and in warm weather, it is the music that sings of home.
Just over our property line begins a series of small waterfalls. Water is difficult to photograph. It’s twisting, rushing ways don’t confirm well to film. And something of it’s sensual existence is always lacking in stationary, two-dimensional form. Even so, I find it impossible not to at least try, ever now and again.