And the birdies are hiding under mounds of snow! Saturday morning could have taken place in December or January but surely shouldn't be this late in March. So much snow fell over night that the cemetery grounds were sheathed in snow and glittering in the sunlight. And even though the warm sun and blue sky were heavenly, the air was cold and the snowy surface of the road melting, making it very slippery for us to walk on. We had to walk carefully and move more slowly in order to avoid falling. But we made it defiantly once around and no falls were reported.
And so I am still looking forward to "Spring" as described by Billy Collins in his poem below. Surely it cannot be too far away, can it???
Today
If ever there were a spring day so perfect,
so uplifted by a warm intermittent breeze
that it made you want to throw
open all the windows in the house
and unlatch the door to the canary's cage,
indeed, rip the little door from its jamb,
a day when the cool brick paths
and the garden bursting with peonies
seemed so etched in sunlight
that you felt like taking
a hammer to the glass paperweight
on the living room end table,
releasing the inhabitants
from their snow-covered cottage
so they could walk out,
holding hands and squinting
into this larger dome of blue and white,
well, today is just that kind of day.
