these days are numbered

It was written in the receding line of snow at our neighborhood sledding hill – the last day of sledding for a while. Maybe for the season. With a string of 50 degree days ahead, the world is utterly transformed.

blog030815_last sledding day66/365: sledding hill

Today’s post title is also the title of a song by The Head & the Heart. We fell in love with this band after seeing them play live at Festival Palomino last fall.

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04.24.13 extreme thaw

Monday night it snowed another 6 inches. Tuesday morning, the sun showed up in full force. Snow was melting so fast  – like the entire spring thaw condensed into time lapse. Huge chunks of snow pelted the rooftop all morning in a sky-is-falling symphony.

In twelve short hours, all six inches of snow had been transformed into rushing, dripping, exuberant, flowing WATER and the sun set with the satisfaction of a job well done.

blog042413_ecstatic melt114/365: april snow melt

03.17.13 muddle puddle

Reflections can be so much more than mirror images. The pictures you see on the surface of the water place the sky at your feet and lend a glossy luminescence to even the drabbest of subjects. Then all it takes is the slightest disturbance – a drop of water, a hint of breeze – to set off waves of shimmering distortion, confusing reality into brilliance.

blog031713_architectural reflection76/365: architectural reflection

03.16.13 breaking winter

Winter is worn out. I walked to the creek yesterday and saw signs everywhere of the season’s last gasp. The sledding hill was empty, its snowpack well-trodden and soggy from the morning rain, cracked sleds abandoned near the bottom. The frozen creek was like a junkyard full of jagged ice chunks and broken branches, naked ice unprotected by its usual blanket of snow now pockmarked and scarred.

We romanticize signs of spring – grass turning green, birds singing, the smell of a warming breeze – but this scene was more like the field after a battle. It looked as if winter finally gave up the ghost but, then, I didn’t actually see it wave the white flag.

blog031613_breakingwinter75/365: pocked ice with broken branches