It's a winter view, to be sure, but it already has some of the warm glow of spring about it. Sure, the sun was setting and the oranges were enhanced, but still, I feel spring. A cardinal is singing a purely spring song of late and I stop and listen to the individual notes of the call. Usually five, but varied. Sometimes a brief three; every now and then six. But it is the sure song of spring and I welcome it. I hear it in the morning before I am even out of bed.
Behind the barn is the long drift of snow, laid there by the barn itself as the wind whipped along its side. The snow is 2-3 feet deep in places and would come nearly to my waist. And yet in the same few steps, I'd come across bare ground. That snow which lay out on the level has long ago melted. Only those deepest spots remain.
I set out to fix the mailbox last evening, too. After it was knocked off by a snow plow, I hurriedly placed it back atop the platform with bungee cords. We looked like the "Beverly Hillbillies" and it grated on me every time I went by. The box (and the post, too) hung at an angle. So I took the box down, drew the old bent nails, replaced the wooden platform and screwed it all back together. It will work until I can buy a new one. At least I imagine the mailman has stopped laughing.
