The Changing Seasons: February 2016

This is the final month of deep winter in New England — but we have had a rather gentle winter. Only two snows of any significance. We’ve had terribly hard winters for the past few years, so I can’t begin to express how pleased I am to not have one this year.

February has been a mixed bag. Several weeks of a snowy landscape, as lovely as a picture postcard or a Currier and Ives print.

Otherwise, plain naked trees and gray skies. A world waiting for spring.


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Spring is a month in the future. Technically. It could yet snow. Winter could have a “last stand,” a last frigid final week of below zero temperatures. But I think not.

By late February, even if we should get snow, it doesn’t stay long — and rarely does the mercury dip much below freezing. The world has moved around the sun. The planetary tilt says “spring.” It will come.


The birds are gradually returning. Soon, we’ll see a robin and won’t that be lovely.

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Bishop, our Australian shepherd, thinks winter is the best season. The colder and snowier, the more he likes it.

We have a doggy door, so none of our pooches have to stay in — or out — unless they want to. They are free to enter and leave as the spirit moves them, except for first thing in the morning when I throw them all out (lazy bums!) … and last thing at night, when we throw them out again.

During the day, they go out when they hear something they deem bark-worthy. Usually, the sound of an engine — or an animal. It turns out they have no problem with the UPS guy or the mail person. It’s their vehicles that get them all worked up.


People are not worth paying attention to, unless they are near food, in which case their attention is riveted.  Sunday night, the plow guy knocked. He came into the house, walked up the stairs to the living room.

None of the dogs noticed until he was actually in the living room. At which point, they walked over to sniff him. When they didn’t smell food, they went back to their beds.


The snow stopped falling Monday morning. It wasn’t enough snow to block the dog flap, so they were going in and out freely. It was mid morning when I was in kitchen. Bonnie and Amber were in the kitchen cadging biscuits, but where was Bishop?

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He was, it turned out, outside, hanging out in a snow drift. Sometimes, he sleeps out there. Not because we don’t let him in, but because … he likes the cold. He likes snow. The colder it gets, the happier he is about the weather.

It’s nice that someone around here likes winter.





Winter has arrived here in southern New England. It came late, but it has announced its presence on no uncertain terms.

It snowed last Monday. Snowed again all day Sunday and into early Monday this week. Now, the temperature is dropping.

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Right now, it’s hovering around the freezing mark, but by the end of the week, it will be hovering around zero.

Cold. Very, very cold.

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Some folks like winter. I suspect most of them are young, don’t have to get to work early in the morning … or are passionate about winter sports.

I loved winter when I was in elementary school. Snow meant the likelihood of school being canceled. It meant a day of sledding. Frozen feet and hands didn’t bother me, then.

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The world is pretty, all frosted with snow, but it’s difficult for us — older, tireder, with arthritic knees and bad backs — to navigate the slippery slope of the driveway. To park in the drifts which hang around parking lots right through the spring.


But it sure is pretty.

cee's fun foto chall



We were in the middle of a snowstorm, the weather equivalent of a siege.


Underneath that hump, there is a table … was a table … will be a table … when spring comes …

And yet … spring is not far. Five weeks by the calendar. In between, there’s a lot of melting and mud coming. I hope we won’t flood. We deserve a break. All of New England deserves a break.

snow falling front trees