Dave-The-Well-Guy and his crew finished the well. They bolted a steel cap on top, leveled the walk from the driveway to the fence, then poured cement. The damp concrete still has its wood frame. It should be dry today. We can remove the wood and get on with the rest of the work we need to do.
Our picket fence was damaged by the winter. Broken pickets need replacement. Maybe hinges too. After which, a bit of cleanup and we will have a front walk. Imagine! We can come and go through the front door, saving a whole flight of stairs.
I was going to pay Dave. I was feeling guilty. He had completed 85% of the work last autumn. We have water.
Garry countered, pointing out Dave-The-Well-Guy is not someone you pay before the job is finished. Garry figured if we paid him, it would be the last we’d ever see of him. The project would remain permanently “almost done.”
Owen was restless about fixing the fence and other warm weather tasks. I hoped Dave-The-Well-Guy would get to it. I hate nagging. He had called and assured me we weren’t forgotten. But that was it. No “Dave-The-Well-Guy sighting” followed.
I called Monday and said “If you want to get paid, finish the job.”
He explained winter had caught him off-guard. I reminded him it hadn’t snowed until January 27th. He said he was waiting for the ground to thaw. I pointed out the daffodils are blooming.
The truck arrived an hour later. It promptly rained. They had to stop, but came back yesterday. The well was finished by dinnertime.
SLASH AND BURN: Never attribute to malice that which is adequately explained by stupidity. — Robert Hanlon
For this week’s photo challenge, get up early and explore the morning light.
Living on the east coast in a house that faces east, sunrise is a much easier capture than sunset. There are sunrises in the deep part of winter. The glowing sky over a world buried deep under snow and ice.
It is spring. The calendar is unequivocal.
Spring has officially been here for nearly three weeks. Sure enough, if you look carefully, you can see the signs. Crocuses in the garden. Fat buds on trees and vines.
Our back garden is full of day lily shoots. They have a lot of growing to do before they bloom — a month or more — but they’re coming up thick and fast. It’s going to be a bonanza year for day lilies. I hope their enthusiasm is contagious.
This past weekend, the temperatures soared. The sun came out and stayed out.
And we emerged. Winter-pale, wearing crumpled shorts and tee shirts pulled from the bottom of drawers in which they have lain since last October. Squinting in the strong sunlight. Winter is finally over. We won!
Hauling cameras and fishing poles, kayaks and canoes. Picnic baskets. Umbrellas and lawn blankets. With small frisky dogs in tow.
It was the first sunny Sunday after the worst-ever winter.
No leaves yet on the trees. Nor were any flowers — wild or cultivated — to be seen. There is a world of hope for more sunny days and weeks stretching ahead. It’s the beginning. Never have we deserved it more.
What makes these oddball? These lovely pictures that look like Christmas?
They were taken on March 28th and March 29th. Not Christmas. Not even close. I sincerely hope that I don’t have the opportunity to take any more of these kinds of pictures until NEXT winter!!
March 20, 2015. It was the first day of spring. Cold, raw, with leaden skies and a promise of snow. Supposedly not a lot of snow. The forecast called for less than an inch. Not noteworthy. After the past 7 weeks, “noteworthy” has a new meaning.
So I said “Let’s go shooting,” and Garry agreed.
Garry goes out everyday. I am sometimes inside for a week or more. Usually, it doesn’t bother me. This winter, though, I haven’t been able to get out at all, not even to the backyard or deck.
Finally, I got restless. I had a sudden, urgent need for a change of scenery. An airing. It was, after all, spring. The vernal equinox.
We went down to the river and took pictures.
I’ve lived in the northeast my entire life, minus 9 years. Garry too. We’ve both been in New England through many winters. I don’t remember this much snow still on the ground so late in the season. Not in my 28 winters. Garry’s been here or in Boston for 45 years and he doesn’t remember one like this, either.
I don’t necessarily expect it to be warm and flowery at the end of March, but I expect the snow to be mostly melted. Maybe see a crocus or two. Robins returning to build nests.
Not this year. No crocus, no robins. And the thing is, it’s cold. Still dropping into the low twenties at night and barely going above freezing by day.
March 21, 2015. It was the second day of spring. Surprise! It’s snowing. It had been snowing since the previous afternoon and there wasn’t much accumulation. But it wasn’t nothing, either. All the ground which had appeared was white again.
I took pictures out the front of the house, out the back window and over the deck. I still can’t get to the deck, but I can push the door open about halfway. We call this progress.
We cancelled our planned excursion for the beginning of April. Even if the weather turns suddenly seasonably warm, it will take more than two weeks for the mess to clear up. For the mud to dry up. For the huge piles of dirty ice to disappear. Maybe we’ll go in the autumn.
Maybe we’ll just stay home.
The rules are simple. Every month, each of us posts pictures of the same area where we live that shows the seasons as they change. This month should look more springlike. There is less snow than there was in February. Probably several feet less, but it snowed the day before yesterday, laying down a few new inches of powder.
It seemed so unfair, it being the first day of spring and all. I hope by the next month, I will have pictures of flowers. These were taken over a period of a week.
Perhaps the grass will be green again and the robins will be nesting.