Word has it that there will be a brief climb to near 40 degrees today. No one is getting too excited about the relative warmth because four to six inches of new snow is predicted for tonight. Resignation rules the day. Funny how 40 degrees can be referred to as “warm.” Perhaps only to people hardened by a steady diet of single digits.
Heard a solitary bird this morning while I was waiting for Daisy to finish up and come back inside. She must have heard it too. She stood and cocked her head to one side as though listening to the unaccustomed sound. Our area, normally full of birdsong in the warmer weather, has been silent lately. This morning, the bird was singing a lonely tune. The notes hovering in the chill air before bouncing off a frozen landscape.
Decided what I miss is color. Feeling overwhelmed by the starkness of a white and gray world. Craving the greens and yellows and pinks of Spring. I found a picture of our deck to remind myself that it hasn’t always been covered with mounds of snow and ice.
Thinking of the Walt Whitman quote from Leaves of Grass: “Happiness not in another place, but this place. . . not for another hour, but this hour. . .”
So I’ll take a few flowers and line the kitchen sills with color and be content with that for today.