Tumbling Toward Spring
This morning my car was well and truly iced in. The front tires – the drive tires – did nothing but spin on the slick ice. Nothing helped – not rocking, not de-icer, not kitty litter, not pushing…
The thaw has continued, with temperatures rising into the forties. Everything is slushy and running with water. Except the ice under my car. Perhaps I will pour some boiling water over it tomorrow.
Walking home was an exercise in balancing overheating with the need for wind protection. I was too warmly dressed for walking, but the sharpness of the wind precluded obvious fixes like taking off my hat. Really, I do need to invest in some earmuffs.
One thing about walking in the slush and snow-covered sidewalks was how it forced me to pay attention to my footing. It occurs to me that in some ways our roads and sidewalks have made us lazy; we’re so used to not having to think about the terrain beneath our feet that it is surprising when we encounter rougher ground.
They’re baaaack… mosquitoes, that is. One or two, flowing through the air above the melting snow and ice. I figure they are gambling on a continuing warm spell and the opportunity to get a jump on their slower-hatching competition. It does indicate that I have less time than I thought to clear out the tubs on the deck; it is not possible to eliminate all breeding grounds – the little stream at the back edge of the lot ensures that – but there’s no reason to give the little bloodsuckers breeding pools conveniently close to warm, living food – e.g. us.
The car is finally free; steady streams of ice and snowmelt are flowing down the driveway, gliding under the layers of ice and snow in the backyard, undermining them from below. I shoveled some of the slush about to hasten the process; the little black cat watched with interest, sometimes getting too close to shovel or feet for my comfort. She is lucky that I didn’t accidentally hit her with the shovel or drop snow on her.
The little black cat’s fur has grown long, thick, and gleaming. She sat on my lap, curled like a snail, then on the railing, hunched up and small, but calm. She sat there in the late afternoon sunlight, catching its golden rays in the halo of her shining fur.
Tonight I heard cats fighting, and I walked outside to investigate. I walked down our street past several houses, and when I looked back, the sky was all pale and rosy in the aftermath of the sunset. Stark black branches reached for a shining crescent moon above it all. There was no sign of the cats.
I hear the sound of cats fighting again. I look over at the neighbor’s half-dead maple, and see the fluffy cat fall from it, huge with anger. High up above, near the crescent moon, the little black cat is hunched on a branch.
The gnats have also come out of hibernation. One is flying around me, under the light of the kitchen table. I grab for it, miss, grab for it again. It lies flattened on the mound of my thumb; I brush it off and go back to typing.
The wind this morning is blowing from the southeast. That’s not typical. The winds tend generally southwesterly; that’s where the usual rainstorms and drifting fronts come from. Sometimes, like this month, the winds swing out of the northeast, bringing the unusual storms, heavy with moisture and fury. But southeastern winds? I don’t know what to expect.
Looking out the back door window, I hear the energetic cawing of crows. Then, through the branches of the big silver maple, I see one. It is chasing and dive-bombing a hawk.
Looking out the kitchen window, I see the male cardinal huddled up against the crabapple tree, trying to keep out of the wind.
Sitting on the porch with the little black cat curled on my lap, I hear the rush of wind headed our way. It is a good 10-15 seconds between hearing it roaring in the trees to the southwest, and when it reaches us. The trees sway ponderously as the wind flows over us, riffling the little cat’s fur and raising goosebumps on my skin. On the back deck, the prayer flags flap madly, shredding their prayers into the wind.
The snow continues to melt. Everywhere is the sound of trickling water, dripping trees and eaves, and the swashing of cars going through puddles. In the yard the snow is a mixture of ice, snow under ice, and slush. Where leaves, sticks, pine needles, cones, or maple buds have fallen, the snow has melted away in the shape of whatever object it is. These holes have higher walls on the southward side, where the edge of snow has partially shielded the object from the sun. It’s almost like a ripple in the bottom of a creek or a wash, only instead of it being sand eroded by water, it is snow eroded by light.
I decided to clear the shaded back deck of snow and got a bit silly with it when I discovered that I could break up the surface layer of ice (about 2 inches thick) into great slabs. The largest ones I stood on end; the smaller shards I hurled off the deck. I was delighted to discover that, if the angle was right and the snow below was soft, you could get some of them to stick up straight in the snow instead of shattering.
Watching the little black cat navigate the melting snow from the deck was amusing. Before, the snow was either soft – and the cat simply sank on each step – or it was ice-layered – and the cat was light enough to stay on top. Now as it moves along, its weight is at times enough for it to either break through or crack the crust. I laughed at it, I admit, because it was funny, I was giddy from hurling ice, and because earlier, when the same thing happened to me, the little cat had on more than one occasion stopped in its tracks atop the crust to stare at me, as if to say, what on earth is wrong with you?
We are back to frosty mornings and chilly but warmer afternoons. The car is covered with red-tinged bird poop; I suspect something’s been eating either chokecherries in the backyard or maple buds in the front, and I would not be surprised if it were the starlings.
Everywhere there are piles of snow created by the plows, and the roads are full of gravel and potholes.
I was startled to see a “Lenten Dinner Center” display when I walked into the grocery store this afternoon – they can’t manage a single box of matzot, but they can do a display for Lent? But then I looked at it more closely, and I had to laugh. Apparently the essentials for a Lenten dinner are: Kraft Mac & Cheese, Tuna Helper, egg noodles, Andy’s fish batter, Saltines, canned salmon, and Ragu cheesy sauce. Yum! Certainly, Lent is a time of penitence, but this seems unnecessarily harsh.
Today’s weather has grown progressively worse. This morning it was clear but cold, with the temps in the high twenties and the wind from – sigh – an easterly direction. Temps rose to just above freezing midday. In the last few hours, we’ve seen a transition from rain to freezing to sleet and now to snow. Moreover, it’s not just ordinary flakes, but great sheets of clumps of snow. I’m looking out the back kitchen window from my table, and D.’s looking out at the snow through the front window, and we’re both appalled by it.
I just walked outside to shovel away some slush and to comfort the wailing cat. It is what I think “raw” was intended to describe: windy, cold, and wet. Brrrrufff!
The wind is picking up. The flag in the nearby parking lot is out completely straight, and the flag pole itself is swaying in the wind.
When the wind hits the eastern side of the house, it sounds more ominous than when it comes from the southwest. Instead of the ship creaks, it’s more of a roaring rumble. Yikes.
We’ve returned to thawing. I was pleased to look out the window when I woke up and see that my car was no longer covered with snow, and the ground was not icy. It was flowing with water and muddy where it was not gravel or pavement. The little black cat hopped on the driver’s seat this morning, patterning it with little muddy footprints.
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