I’m tired of winter. Sometimes I feel like Julie Christie in Dr. Zhivago, huddled in the icy summer palace moaning “It’s a terrible time to be alive!” If only Boris Pasternak would write a poem about me…
But sometimes I feel grateful too. For itty bitty bird tracks by my front door.
Check out these icicles.
I get to walk a gauntlet of them each morning, it’s exciting.
I can’t get a great photo, but the trees are definitely budding under there.
Here’s another shot of budding trees, with Happy in the background making snow angels. (Or more likely, rolling in poopsicles while the Food Lady is distracted trying to focus up close.)
This bush is right outside my front door, and has taken on a personality of its own. Like a big shaggy beast from Where the Wild Things Are.
Here’s Happy sitting underneath it for scale.