Spring May Be Coming

It is early morning here in Cumberland, RI and although the thermometer reads 19 degrees, a glance around the yard gives me hope that spring may be coming.

For one thing, for the first time in more than a month my back steps are totally clear of ice and snow.  I had shoveled them several times but gave up when the surrounding snow was actually higher than the two wooden steps and it became easier to just walk across them when going to feed the critters.  This morning I was actually able to make the trip in my slippers…without even getting wet.

And I can now see the two cat shelters I had set up last fall, one on either side of the shed where the feral cats who had been eating here all year might feel safe enough to curl up out of the cold.  After the first big blizzard the snow was just too deep to navigate and more than I could find it in me to shovel.  Then it softened and refroze, and foolhardy though I may sometimes be, it wasn’t worth risking a fall to try to reach them just to satisfy my curiosity.  The sun has melted the snow off of them, but the snow from here to there is still a barrier.

I had, however, shoveled a path across the yard and around to the bird feeding station in the side yard, right outside my window.  I figure if I am feeding them I want the pleasure of watching them, so after the first big snow storm I girded my loins and shoveled a path one shovel wide and I shoveled it only once. After that I just tramped across subsequent snowfalls, following the faint outline of the initial path and wearing my highest knee-high boots that weren’t really high enough as more often than not I found myself stomping through snow that was mid-thigh deep.  The good news is that the path is now negotiable in regular shoes and getting shallower by the day.  There is also the added benefit that after a few balmy days when the birds were no doubt able to find bugs or worms in the soggy patches of grass here and there, the feeders haven’t needed to be filled quite as often.

Throughout the winter I have been able to gauge how much the snow has accumulated or melted by watching the hanging planter that never got put away last fall and spent the winter standing upright in a raised bed in the backyard.  After the blizzard I could just see the upper curve of the hook.  As the snow compacted and slow melting took place more and more of the hanger began to show, slowly disappearing again as more and more snow fell.  Today I can even see part of the pot.  And the fire pit is back, albeit with a thick cap of snow on it, but there it is, right where I remember it used to be.

The wind chimes on their short shepherd’s crook pole are not only visible again, but may soon be free enough to chime; and the park bench and round table in my little corner garden are no longer just lumps under what had been an impressive drift.  Progress is definitely being made.

Dramatic change is also seen in the front yard where the warm morning sun has been at work.

The driveway is dry.  Really dry, with no snow or ice, and grassy margins on either side, allowing me to walk out to pick up the mail if not in my socks (yes, I must confess to often being out there not only in socks, but in pajamas as I put out the trash or pick up the mail which would have shocked my late mother who never even opened her front door unless she was fully dressed, coifed, and had her make-up on) but at least in my slippers.

I am thinking that a bit of spring fever may also be in the air because amazing as it may be for someone who hates yard work as much as I do, I can’t wait to get out there to start cleaning things up and restoring order once again.

I want to rake up and shovel away the piles of sunflower hulls that now lay in deep messy black carpets under the bird feeders, silent testament to the hundreds of pounds of seeds I have bought and hauled in since last fall.  

I want to put away the antique sled with my old ice skates hanging on it that served as a winter decoration, frozen in place near the front door and replace it with some of the garden gnomes that have been wintering indoors.

I want a flowery wreath on my front door.

I want to see the daffodils and crocuses that I know are right under the snow just waiting to see the light of day, and the chives, oregano, parsley and sage that will be up and ready for use once the thaw finally takes place.

It is coming; I can smell it in the air.  Spring is right around the corner and I can hardly wait.

© Rhea Bouchard Powers 2018