Unburdened

The final resting place for the uncommon

Though only in body

Dust and tinges of bone remain

beneath the knobby spring terrain

Markers bearing just a snippet of an earthbound vitality

Entry and Exit

Beloved wife

Former headmaster

Dedicated alum

Distinctive author

Her verse exposed this land’s second original sin

Time-worn graves

mossy and copper stained virescent words, faded

An existence forgotten

These spirits rattle and hum

The sound carried in the first season’s whipping winds

I settle in to listen

Day 15.  A walk and a picnic in a campus cemetery. Spring is just beginning to speak.

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Capturing a New Day

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Last quarter moon in the first part of the day

Still high in the Eastern sky

The day is beginning to burst

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The pond is composed

Presently unoccupied

Bullfrogs as yet to call their mates

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The stream across the way

bubbles in contrast to the easy

manner in which her mother rests

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Her brother runs faster

Rounding a bend in the road

Gliding over rocks and under

fallen trees who lay across

his banks in a final surrender

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Back home a view of our sweet land

Snow hanging on in the back forty

Sunlight kissing the maples and birches

The bonfire pit anxious for a conflagration

And shoots of fresh grass

winning over the sleeping earth

 

Day 15. I woke up to see the last quarter moon outside my bedroom window. These photos were taken with my phone.  Took the easy workout this morning, walking for an hour watching the golden sky light up and taking pictures of pretty places near the homestead.

 

 

Emerging Emergence

Credit: www.rgbstock.com

Yesterday I heard the spring peepers

Mother Nature’s front line amphibians

The cacophonous infantry that beat back Old Man Winter

The lone bumble bee also sounded the call

A buzzing scout announcing His final retreat 

A butterfly dances across my line of  vision

in search of a sip of succulent nectar

 

Today’s morning run doused my exposed skin

in the green scent of a warm shower

Precipitation that precedes the budding on the sleeping branches

Birds sang in a chorus

Chirps and twirps and rata-tat-tats

drowning out train whistles

and the early morning bustle of whooshing traffic

in the distance

We’re no longer afraid to hope…

 

Day 14.  We’ve kept ourselves in a semi-permanent brace against the cold and snow since late January. I think we can finally let go and enjoy the flow that only Spring can bring!

Off the Hook

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Shell seekers

Collectors of sand

Between seasons near the shore

Faces to the sun

Soaking up long lost rays

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Mother Light

Solar Sister rides high in the April sky

Toes dipping in the Atlantic’s low tide

Water bluer than blue

Dogs romping

It’s their playground ’til summer starts to call

 

Day 13. A lucky day. Spent the morning at Plum Island with my oldest son  gathering bits and pieces for June’s big day.

What If I Missed It?

 

I thought I’d take a walk between the raindrops

A daily morning amble bordering on an obsessive need for fresh air

No walls of snow nor cold spring precipitation can deter me

A funky forest scent greets my nostrils- a deciduous odor-somewhere between death and rebirth  

No one is near to rousing from sleep

The raw gray keeps their wakefulness away  

I turn the corner passing a small grove

SNAP!

Branches breaking?

Squirrel scurrying?

I gasp, covering my mouth in whispered surprise

A trio of does meets my eyes

We stare in respectful silence

The whole world seems still  

Morning mist begins to soak me

The air wraps me in its chill  

Signs of life at last arrive

Cardinals cheerfully chirping

Mourning doves cooing their greeting

along and among and amidst

broken bows and mailboxes

bent from brumal blizzards

Though these days remain anemic and ashen

Small glimmers of a golden vision are emerging

My heart is anticipating a new inauguration

Day 10.  Written at the end of a whirlwind of a work week. Happy Friday!

Sleeping Equinox

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Rough edges of spring barely beginning

sightings of old brown ground . .

long lamenting winter’s discontent

April: the fool’s own jester

Perhaps we deceive ourselves

into thinking winter will begin to disappear

leaving no traces of its existence

We fear this season will be fleeting

Barely appearing

A verdant apparition

A lush hallucination

A grassy delusion

We await the unfolding

March Madness

Credit: time.com

“I’m so angry about this snow,” griped my friend J, as we watched yet another round of white precipitation whirling around outside. We were having a luscious lunch at Maggie’s Farm and the spring afternoon was anything but. We are beyond tired of dealing with our record-breaking snow fall this year. Never mind the cold.

Up here, we pride ourselves on being tough and up to the task of winter’s woes. But when the guy who plows your driveway says he is sick of it, you know the limits of collective tenacity have been reached. In fact, I have been claiming that this season has literally shut down my ability to write a single blog post.  I haven’t even had the wherewithal to read the ones I follow!

The season was one of havoc and hazards. Ice dams that caused thousands of dollars worth of damage to friend’s ceilings, tires blown out by potholes, falling ice that collapsed a colleagues’ deck and ruptured a gas line just minutes after she had been out there with her dogs, cars totaled from numerous accidents caused by slippery roads…

When the weather rules your life every day, it’s hard to get out of your own way mentally. Each night I went to bed with the worry about the growing icicles along my roof line and the several feet of snow piling up on the garage and front porch roofs.  Each morning was greeted with what became a rite of layered preparation before heading out the door. I would wear the same four sets of clothing for weeks (with washing in between, of course!) because it was essential for getting where I needed to go (if I could get there). I spent a few weeks taking an alternate route  to work because the driving conditions on my normal route were too hazardous. Once, on the alternate route, someone painted “UNCLE” in blue on the snow bank at the end of their street!  Often, we would call one another from outside the house for a push up the driveway (not everyone has four-wheel drive). It takes three strong people to accomplish the task.  Running and writing were pushed aside-two important things that help to define me. We longed for our normal rituals and routines-the predictable rhythm of daily life that grounds us.

Still, we remain hopeful for the sweet smell of spring. The sounds of melting snow and chirping birds. The glimpse of color on the trees. I miss the wildlife. The ducks on the pond (too frozen for them-many have been rescued this season, very unusual), the deer at the far end of the yard, even the wild turkeys who have been known to block my running path in the morning!

April is around the bend. I dream of spring hikes, short sleeves and sauntering soliliquys.