The morning sun casts a long shadow from the spruce stand. Snow crunches underfoot, although under the stand itself the low sun has filtered through and softened the snow cover. These last few sunny days have been clear and cold. It feels more like late winter, but realistically that’s wishful thinking. The main defining quality of our early spring weather is its erratic nature.

I’m enjoying the brisk beauty even less because my body seems to be fighting off yet another virus which my partner brought home from her job in health care. Fortunately the baby has recovered quickly. One of the main selection pressures among “civilized” humans has been infectious disease. High population densities and extensive trading contacts have nurtured and spread infectious agents for a long time. A cold, wet spring is just not the danger it once was.

Here’s one of the rabbits which periodically shows itself in the evening, sending the dogs into a barking frenzy. Otherwise I mostly see tracks, droppings, and the remains of raspberry canes which have been cleanly cut by the rabbits’ incisors.

Vernal Equinox morning

I stepped outside into the forest holding its tongue. A full moon and the beginning of sunrise perched on opposing sides of the horizon. Machinery began to hum on the moon side. Closer to the still unseen sun, a robin broke out in staccato laughter. A cardinal was the first to deem the light bright enough to sing. The world of man spoke up in response, and crows commented on the dawn from distant roosts. Then that first robin began his song.

Snow clung to cold pockets and shadows. The water pooled in depressions everywhere had a veneer of ice criss-crossed with stress lines. Chickadees sang in slightly offset unison, almost masked by the loud descending notes of a cardinal. Overhead, the light blue sky provided a backdrop for fat tree buds preparing to flower. Below, the flattened leaves were revealed in russets and grays. Moss barely stood out from the brown, although I knew that lately it’s shone emerald green in full light. Frost graced the edges of the forest.

Robins are trying to claim our yard with their liquid warbles. The long gray months have got everyone obsessed with spring signs. Of course the titmice have been singing for weeks, but I suppose that sounds less dignified than reporting a red-breasted robin.

The snow was so thick and firm right after the recent storm that plows sculpted the roads out of it. The other day what little remained sagged under the onslaught of warmth and rain. Depressions emerged as little moonscapes of slush mixed with cold water.

The world surged with movement. An impromptu creek flowed under the snow at the edge of our property. I encountered several raccoon tracks which struck more or less straight across the forest floor, altering slightly to disappear at the base of exposed logs and reappear at the ends. Raccoons don’t hibernate, but they are less active in the bitter cold. The snow was littered with debris, including empty acorn caps and eviscerated husks. I imagined these were from the chipmunks bounding everywhere lately, which breed so early they need to rely on stored food for sustenance.

An assortment of birds continued their motions toward their breeding seasons. In the distance a woodpecker rattled in a display of drumming. Overhead flew loose clouds of blackbirds and dark silhouettes of assorted waterfowl. Suddenly snow geese filled the sky with vast geometric designs. They passed in waves, until all that remained was their distant honking.

Here are some snow pictures while it’s still officially winter: