Sunday morning

A gray and mild Sunday morning. We went around the lake, on the high road--a splashy, muddy walk of about two miles. Boscoe needed bribing, but he kept up well. (And now both dogs are snoring loudly.)

For a block or two we were behind a woman walking briskly with her Jack Russell terrier; the terrier walked briskly as well, proudly carrying an enormous stick. Clearly, a game of fetch was in his future.

Out on the lake, a pair of Canada geese stood on the white ice and yelled. They moved mincingly, hesitantly, the way I do on ice. Me, I was wearing my stabilicers, but since it had not frozen overnight I didn't need them, and the cleats had me clattering down the sidewalk like a tap dancer.


Back at home, I walked around to the south side of the house to see if anything was yet emerging from the frozen ground. The snow has receded near the house, but in the yard it is still a foot deep. I peered at the dead clematis vine, wondering if I need to cut it back, and saw .... Can you see what I saw? Here, I'll zoom in.

The tiny rabbit was trembling in the foliage and when I stepped closer to get a better picture, he zipped away, across the snow and down the street. The snow is scattered with hundreds of little black pellets; clearly this has been his winter home.

Winter. I think we are truly into spring, despite the fact that Doug and his buddies are up at Lake of the Woods, ice fishing, and in March we almost always get a blizzard. But this morning in the mild damp air I could smell rain, and the dogs came home with muddy paws.