I cleared a path to the pond this morning, the one in my backyard.
The top layer of snow had mostly melted by the time I reached the edge of the just barely frozen water. But the exercise had done me some good, reminding me, as it did, of younger days when I was eager to earn a dollar or two from the neighbors. Sometimes scoring a cup of hot chocolate in the process.
It feels as if this will be the last storm of the season. Spring is just weeks away and the weather forecast is already forging its own path towards warmer days ahead. But mostly, it’s been an unusually mild winter here in the northeast. Hardly any time at all given over to thoughts of hibernation, death, resurrection, or renewal.
I can’t say that I’ll much miss the cold. But a part of me still wants to mourn it like I would the passing of an old acquaintance. All the better to welcome spring with its yet unsullied promises, I suppose.
But for now, I’ll stand here just long enough to enjoy my own path-clearing artistry.
And think back on some days long since gone.
Image Credit: Pixabay