A week ago now since the big storm had one more day of fight in it and took out the power for another day or so. Today is a March day. February goodbye. Sky blue. Clear as bell. A chilled breeze. And 40 degrees. Mud everywhere. The 40 inches of snow now down to three feet and piles of it on one side of the road with weeping pastures and fields and side boards gushing sudden water from the Great Mother earth that gets to the river by first running through the road. The road you're on. Miles like this.
We were out with chain saw, 3-foot bow saw and loppers taking care of all the white pine damage from the snow storms, and it's extensive. Much we will pile to compost back into the earth. Some we will cut down fine and lay into our driveway and build an old system corduroy road to get the vehicles over the mud. The poor man's fill.
The photograph above is some time ago. The baby in my lap has grown into a musician. The massive maple tree we are tapping for sap and boiling down in the kitchen has toppled over. We still have the sugar pails, spouts, too. The swing seat I turned into a bench seat set onto an old tree stump. The chain for the swing is awaiting the next swing which may be awaiting the next baby. But don't look at us.
All that snow around us has melted twenty-five times since.
photo © susan arnold
