Winter's return.

We had spring, it sprung and winter is back. The pull and push of the seasons, You go to bed saying how nice it is to be in spring, and upon waking, you see winter came back.

Last day of winter

The calendar says this is the last full day of winter, but a look out the window says winter. Still mostly snow covered, but mud is surging upwards. At least that's how it feels.

I spent yesterday morning out on a road that I spend a lot of time during our snow free months. Patches of mud were in the road, ponds are still frozen and the Kennebago River is still ice covered. But spring still is slipping in. Purple finches, brown creepers and the chickadees were singing wildly. Woodpeckers were drumming. I know the conifers and aspens are photosynthesizing, the sap is running. Spring is overtaking winter.

And it is so quiet. Water is babbling, but the snowmachines are silent.

Soon I'll get out more and note the comings of the birds. I still have Bigelow to look forward to and counting Bicknell's Thrush. Acadia? Baxter? Baxter most definitely. I can't wait. So much to do and to look forward to, but not nearly enough time.

Odd collection

I've been enjoying some very nice late winter sunshine, and thought I would share these with you. As you can see, we have mud!

Snow!

This February had been fairly dry. In the mountains, we did have a few snowy days, but it was the kind where it would snow, but wouldn't accumulate. The end of January gave us a rainstorm, which had cut our snowpack by half. That ended last week. It's still snowing. Higher up in the mountains, they got a couple of feet, down closer to town, we got about a foot .

There is a certain beauty about a New England winter. You suffer through some hard times and you get rewarded with magic.

Iowa Bob's work.

"the discards...

Portrait of a friendship.

Friendships enrich and nourish us. We all know that. Some friendships last for years,lifetimes really, or can be short lived. A good friend of mine, one I have known since the third grade. He's more like a brother. But he lives in Iowa.

He's surrounded by corn and flat land. It's a long way from New Jersey ,where we both are from and Massachusetts ,where he lived before Iowa. I shall call him for the purposes of this post as

"Iowa Bob".

Iowa Bob is an artist. He uses too much pastel colors, used to be really good at drawing, and fancies him as an en plein air painter. Which means if he can drive his car to the spot, he won't paint. So he sits in Iowa dreaming of dreamy landscapes, and trying to paint dreamy landscapes.

This is all a good natured ribbing. His work is beautiful, and is a joy to see. But I have to be hard on him. Demoralize, tear down his view of himself. Push him to try hard. (and believe me Rob, you need to try harder, your work is lacking any emotion, you better go back to generic food labels).

I could needle him about Big Foot and ivory-billed woodpeckers being one and the same. Just push him a little further. It's what I do for him.

He really should give up, gather his family around and curl into a fetal ball and quietly sob. And squeal like a pig, little man.

I have a collection of his discards. He knows the ones, the ones he left at my house, hoping they would never resurface. Perhaps I'll post them here as a slideshow. Yes, perhaps...

Red fox

If you look out your windows long enough and keep your camera put away, you are bound to see something. So I looked out the back window and saw a fox. My camera was up stairs in a pack. Always happens. I see something from the house and the camera is another part.

I made record time upstairs, mounted the appropriate lens and looked out the window. Luck was with me, the fox was still there,stalking some snow buntings.