A bit of a late start here at 20 Prospect this morning. I’m still busy cleaning up after all the company that dropped by yesterday. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed all the visitors, I’m just not used to them. I felt a little bit like Bilbo Baggins scurrying back and forth from the pantry to the front door to entertain his unexpected company.
For no earthly reason I can determine, WordPress put my blog up on their home page yesterday morning. I figured something was up when comments started coming in about 15 minutes after I posted. By the end of the night 20 Prospect had hosted over 800 visitors, about ten times the normal traffic. I have to say, people were very good natured, not an internet troll among the bunch. So, if you are a new visitor to 20 Prospect, please have a seat, and let me get you some coffee. I stepped out this morning and picked up some donuts, so please help yourself. If you are one of my neighbors to the North, I have to apologize, they are Dunkin’ Donuts. Timmy’s has yet to come to Minnesota.
Oh, who am I kidding. Most of the visitors here just followed an off ramp from the Information Superhighway, looked left, and right, then pulled back up the on ramp spraying gravel behind them as they left. So it’s back to normal today sitting in a chair by the window lost in daydreams.
Winter has returned this morning, after our achingly beautiful February thaw. There is some lovely snow falling lightly in the light of the streetlamps outside. Nothing much, just a sprinkling to freshen things up a bit. We still have over a foot of it in the yard, and on the porch. After a few thaws, and freezes, it’s formed into a glacial consistency that will last us into April. The Indomitable Moxie has worn a path into the crust, as she patrols her kingdom against intrusions by squirrels, rabbits, and other menaces to Dogdom.
April. Only 37 days away. We can make it. I know we can. The sunshine of the last week has given me hope. You would think after 42 years in a northern climate a person would get used to the interminable, bleak expanse of February and March, but you just never do. It makes springtime all the more anticlimactic when it does come. Oh, but May and June. Those haunted evenings of late spring when you hear the trilling of the catbirds through the open windows, and smell the scent of lilacs in the darkness. Those are the days that make it all worthwhile.