2011-The progress of spring seems largely stalled; barely 40 in the day and well below freezing every night. Everything seems to be waiting but with a kind of energy building up behind the blockage so that when the temperatures eases up it feels like things will fairly explode. There is now barely any ice in the reservoir. I guess the huge amount of water mitigates daily temperature changes so there is always progress albeit slower in the cold.
2012-Returning from a week in Florida. Everyday was clear, almost crisp, but with temps around eighty-so called perfect weather. And though it was great to lie out in the sun and swim in the pool, I find it strangely dead there. The air smells like nothing and even when breezes blow it strikes me like a fan, strangely mechanical. It is especially dramatic compared to here where, though its only in the high fifties and low forties at night, everything looks and smells so alive. The air is like an elixir I can’t get enough of and, though on the trip home from Kingston I passed one magnolia after another with its too soon opened buds blasted to brown mush, the apples are budding green, the nectarine is showing pink all over, and the wild roses are soft clouds of green mist everywhere.
2013-Early early in the morning, moonlight, not snow, paints the ground white. A truck passes, sounding like a snowplow and, only half awake, I imagine drifts of moonlight piled on the edges of the roads, massing along the branches of the apple trees and forming thick caps on the heads of sleeping birds.
Tiny ants everywhere, even occasional intrepid Marco Polos journeying across the billowy sheets.
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