Bruce the Weatherman (not to be confused with Bruce the Maple Syrup Tycoon) writes:
Andi and I have fled to Ann Arbor to avoid Eastport’s usual April mud. But it looks like the mud there is still covered.
While we are away, we have network cameras keeping their eyes on things. We also have a guard fox. One of the network cameras showed the guard fox on patrol today.
And to think that all I have for security is a pair of disreputable dogs. Coincidentally, while the fox was guarding the weather station, Miss Sadie, the Cowboy and I were down on the beach looking for hope.
We looked south and found neverending winter.
We looked to the west and found lingering ice mountains beyond the beach grass.
An ice volcano loomed off the rocky point where the gulls will gather soon.
As you can see, blessed bare ground has begun to make an appearance in the neighborhood. Sand emerges along the edges. Ice recedes. Snowmelt from the bluff wears gullies across the beach. It seems like the end of the great glaciers in miniature.
By and large, we choose to be hopeful. In a burst of excessive optimism, some neighbors with a nice sheltered southern exposure brought out the beach furniture . . . although now that I think of it, perhaps the kayaks and the chairs and even the beach umbrella have been buried under the snow until this week. Who would have known?
Even at the Writing Studio and Bait Shop things are looking up. Blue Jays are pecking through the duff on the bare patches on the hill behind us. Pileated woodpeckers are at work in the trees. One day soon the beach pond will fill up and frogs will hide out under the boardwalk. The ice is melting. Blessed liquid water is playing in the sand.