It's been months, perhaps the entire winter, since I've last posted. Why, you may ask?
Any update I may have provided would have been a repetitive mess of white noise of the snow variety.
Snow snow snow. And snow. With a side of snow and a soupçon more of snow. Did I mention the snow?
|Green...and a spot of purple.|
We saw record snowfall in the green mountains. As I'm sitting by the fire in my dotage surrounded by captive children, I'll be weaving a frigid tale of the winter of 2010 that shall be known simply as DAS BLIZZARD (note, not one DQ frozen treat of the same name was consumed that winter, adding immeasurably to the horror of that time). My harrowing narrative will strike those scamps with fear and awe, in large part due to my expert description of the terrific volume of the stuff. There was so much, I'll regale, that it buried small children ALIVE and consumed any and all kittens (and puppies) who wandered outdoors. That's the story I'm telling when I'm 80 and I'm sticking to it.
Today, I strayed outside for the first time in 5 months (again, my story. sticking to it). Rest assured, snow continues to litter the ground in sloppy patches. However, there is green to be seen. And a hint of purple. I let the hens loose to play, the girls insisted, and they managed to scratch bare nascent daffodils and tulips.
All the hard work les girls were putting in guilted me to pick up the rake and gardening shears. Well..... that and my discovery that the recent snowmelt revealed last fall's utter neglect of the flower beds prior to the aforementioned months of the icy white stuff. Dried stalks affronted. Matted leaves festered. All in full view of the neighbors.
|ruh roh. monsieur garden owl has been toppled by old man winter.|
|a small portion of the horror that was revealed by the thaw.|
|the lights that no longer shine|
Sadly, other things were entombed that I'd rather hadn't been. I speak of the flood lights that illuminated the front exterior of the house. At one time, they sat nestled at the top of their post, giving warmth and comfort to all and sundry who sought to find us on a dark and blustery night. Granted, they gave nothing but glaring discomfort to guests pursuing the snoring arts in the spare room but either way, they were crushed by the weight of foot after foot of snow.
But I'm happy to say I've made some headway in clearing the mess. I raked and sheared until verdant nubs were laid bare. I'll only say that if you're inclined, never gift me a superior set of gardening utensils. I once watched a Martha Stewart gardening special wherein she recommended green thumbs invest in expensive tools that last decades. I nodded sagely and thought to myself that Martha would never steer me wrong. However Martha doesn't know me and if she did, my consummate inability to properly store tools would lead her straight to a bleeding ulcer and gums (and a swift decomposition of the lovely implements).
|where'd I leave the tiny clipper thingys?|
|Has anyone seen the big slicer thingmajigs?|
|some green exposed, at last.|
|Mid April and I still leave the kitchen by way of a frozen slip-n-slide.|