The snow melted as fast as it came down yesterday, but overnight a few inches piled up. It filled up the hemlocks and plastered the oaks. It's enough to make the critters hunker down, so all that bird song that has been gradually building with the approach of spring has suddenly ceased.
It's all conducive to contemplation and the solitary, exquisite savor of regret. Sadly, I will have to shatter the silence and fairyland white perfection by firing up my tractor to plow the driveway, before heading off for Vermont later this morning. It won't be Windham County, but I'll record what's happening up there this weekend.