6 Feb, 2011 Author: Glorianna Davenport
As nature writers in New England often remind us, mud marks the beginning of spring, mud, melting snow, and pools of water. Now, in early February, the sun is already appreciably higher, the day is a little longer than it was a year end, and, on this 40 degree day, the snows of the past month are slowly melting. Spring is approaching as it always does, and there are many tasks to attend to before winter ends. Later today I will scan new catalogs, order seeds and plan for the expansion of our plant nursery. But first, the day beckons; I put on my boots and head out into the vast landscape. Walking, however, is particularly treacherous: the wind blows my hair in my eyes, and yesterday's rain has has made the icy surface of the roadway ever smoother and more slippery. I proceed with caution down to the edge of the stream channel. A school of fish dart past, energized by the warming water. Are they baby bass or bridal shiners? I walk on through soft snow and some deep crevasses filled with water. An hour or so later, as I head back towards the house, I catch a glimpse of two young men trudging out along the stream edge that is still frozen. The soft sediment can be dangerous; I am happy there are two of them. As they get to the widest part of the stream channel they pause, put down their packs., and assemble their rods. At the icy, snowy edge of the channel, the first man casts his rod. I smile and, despite the danger, celebrate the fact that it is not yet spring, but that I can see past winter!
