Spring for Sure
Finally, unmistakable signposts of Spring's arrival. The thermometer reached up, up, up and even higher yesterday until it sat at a balmy 8 degrees. No sun, to be sure, but regardless the snow began to melt, and once that starts, you know you're well on the way to warmer weather, sprouting things and plenty of future sunny days. Besides which, I had a telephone call from Kaye Brown, asking if I would do the usual door-to-door canvass on our street for the Canadian Cancer Society.
That's been my sure-fire sign of spring for many years; come April and off I go with the #@%^*&! canvass kit. I hate the bloody thing, detest going door to door, always have, but always will. Just one of those things. It's like doing anything you regret having to do but know you have to since someone's got to do it; afterward, when you're finished it feels so good to know it's done and over with.
A month ago, just as I had completed and handed in my canvass kit for the January March of Dimes campaign, there was a telephone call that my husband picked up. Asking if I would agree to canvass this year again for the Canadian National Institute for the Blind. He, knowing how much I hate canvassing, responded on my behalf and stated I would not, to my great regret. He meant well, but I do that canvass because of the good work they do. My sister is legally blind.
Anyway, when we were in the ravine today on our usual jaunt it was amazing to see how much the snowpack had decreased since the day before. And the trails! Forget going in there without cleats, you just wouldn't be able to; slithering, slipping, sliding ass-over-backwards the order of the day. The ground is still hard frozen, it'll take a while for it to warm up. But since it's frozen it can't absorb all the run-off of the melting snow. So the meltwater slips downhill into the creek and it's running dark and furious.
On the flatter portions of the trail, those areas that don't dip into the ravine, water just sits complacently where it melts, right on top of the ice. By the time we get home after our hour in the ravine, Button's legs are wet and so is her underbelly, while Riley, shorter than her, is completely drenched, the underportion of his little coat quite sodden. But they're clean withal; just wait until the ground finally melts and everything turns to muck.
Plenty of springtime activity in the ravine now - oddly absent yesterday, but for the birds singing everywhere. They're still there, entertaining us, but as of today we had an additional spectacle heralding spring - squirrels and chipmunks are running amok, two by frantic two. 'Tis the season for the reason to multiply and they take this onus placed by Nature upon them very seriously indeed. They skitter over the ground, up onto tree trunks, through the branches, tails twitching in the frantic fun of it all.
No sign of the raccoons. They're holed up elsewhere. Occasionally we see them in one or another of the really old pines, recumbent on those thick branches, peering down at us. They follow the route, my husband always says, of the garbage pick-up. Locating themselves handily closest to the street outlets in the ravine in concert with the days of pick-up. They're clever little fellows, and have my personal admiration.
Cooler today than yesterday, but no rain. The landscape is changing, but slowly enough that I can take a long look at certain points on our jaunt and see trees marching up hillsides, framed by the still-thick-and-white snowpack. And when I set the table in the dining room this evening for dinner much later in the day, I could see a portion of our front lawn revealed as the snow recedes. The sun came out briefly and sent a wide shaft of light over the exposed lawn.
It's still light now at dinnertime, and that's a change associated with spring and longer daylight hours. Just as I'm about to begin serving dinner, there's the telephone. It's someone else calling from CNIB, remarking that someone had called awhile ago, but they're calling again just in case I changed my mind. Would I assent to canvassing for them mid-May to mid-June? You bet.
That's been my sure-fire sign of spring for many years; come April and off I go with the #@%^*&! canvass kit. I hate the bloody thing, detest going door to door, always have, but always will. Just one of those things. It's like doing anything you regret having to do but know you have to since someone's got to do it; afterward, when you're finished it feels so good to know it's done and over with.
A month ago, just as I had completed and handed in my canvass kit for the January March of Dimes campaign, there was a telephone call that my husband picked up. Asking if I would agree to canvass this year again for the Canadian National Institute for the Blind. He, knowing how much I hate canvassing, responded on my behalf and stated I would not, to my great regret. He meant well, but I do that canvass because of the good work they do. My sister is legally blind.
Anyway, when we were in the ravine today on our usual jaunt it was amazing to see how much the snowpack had decreased since the day before. And the trails! Forget going in there without cleats, you just wouldn't be able to; slithering, slipping, sliding ass-over-backwards the order of the day. The ground is still hard frozen, it'll take a while for it to warm up. But since it's frozen it can't absorb all the run-off of the melting snow. So the meltwater slips downhill into the creek and it's running dark and furious.
On the flatter portions of the trail, those areas that don't dip into the ravine, water just sits complacently where it melts, right on top of the ice. By the time we get home after our hour in the ravine, Button's legs are wet and so is her underbelly, while Riley, shorter than her, is completely drenched, the underportion of his little coat quite sodden. But they're clean withal; just wait until the ground finally melts and everything turns to muck.
Plenty of springtime activity in the ravine now - oddly absent yesterday, but for the birds singing everywhere. They're still there, entertaining us, but as of today we had an additional spectacle heralding spring - squirrels and chipmunks are running amok, two by frantic two. 'Tis the season for the reason to multiply and they take this onus placed by Nature upon them very seriously indeed. They skitter over the ground, up onto tree trunks, through the branches, tails twitching in the frantic fun of it all.
No sign of the raccoons. They're holed up elsewhere. Occasionally we see them in one or another of the really old pines, recumbent on those thick branches, peering down at us. They follow the route, my husband always says, of the garbage pick-up. Locating themselves handily closest to the street outlets in the ravine in concert with the days of pick-up. They're clever little fellows, and have my personal admiration.
Cooler today than yesterday, but no rain. The landscape is changing, but slowly enough that I can take a long look at certain points on our jaunt and see trees marching up hillsides, framed by the still-thick-and-white snowpack. And when I set the table in the dining room this evening for dinner much later in the day, I could see a portion of our front lawn revealed as the snow recedes. The sun came out briefly and sent a wide shaft of light over the exposed lawn.
It's still light now at dinnertime, and that's a change associated with spring and longer daylight hours. Just as I'm about to begin serving dinner, there's the telephone. It's someone else calling from CNIB, remarking that someone had called awhile ago, but they're calling again just in case I changed my mind. Would I assent to canvassing for them mid-May to mid-June? You bet.
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posted by Pieface @ 5:08 PM
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