April snows

April snows have a charm not shared by their fellow snows of January. The snows of January are weapons in the war waged by winter against the soul. They are not a brief interlude; they are something to be endured, much as one endures the prying and probing into your mouth whilst in the dentist’s chair.

April snows are friendly. Spring is a time when warmth is fickle; it does not have the constancy of summer. There are stretches when warmth prevails. People set aside jackets, don short sleeved shirts, and inform each other about how nice the weather is. The triumph of warmth is not uniform; the rearguard of winter’s retreat sallies forth with bits of cold. One does not fear April snows; they vanish quickly.

It snowed last night. A world all green and greening had once again turned into white. Bare branches had turned into fluffy white traceries. It didn’t last. By mid afternoon almost all of it was gone.

I suppose April snows are pleasanter in the country. In the city snow is merely another way to make travelling unpleasant. White turns to dirty slush all too fast. In the country it can play Cheshire cat and melt away.

Then, too, in the country one is more inclined to look at the world outside one’s window. Snow is easier to appreciate if can look at it and not see it as an obstacle.

I have moved the computer from its place in the living area by the picture window to the newly designated office room. I have mixed feelings about this move. In the old location I could glance out the picture window. My chances of catching sight of deer and pheasants as they meandered through the back yard were good. It is as easy to notice them passing by when I am seated in my new location.

There are compensations though. When I look up from the computer screen I look out the window at the bird feeders. There is a fair population of birds that dine in the bird feeder area. There are gold finches, house finches, brown threshers, mourning doves, and the inevitable grackles. There are also a pair of woodpeckers. They are quite colorful with black and white stripes and a red band across their foreheads. It is amusing to watch them feed because they feed just as though they were pecking at a tree.

Just a moment or two ago as I was standing at the picture window looking at the new tulip to see how it was doing I spied a rabbit on the lawn. I know he saw something for he checked me out for a while. I stood still and he eventually decided that whatever I was, I wasn’t anything to be worried about. After scratching himself and nibbling on fresh grass he squeezed through the fencing and invaded a garden area. I said to myself, “Rabbit, if you touch those tulips you are dead meat.” Perhaps the message got through by mental telepathy because he inspected them thoroughly and hopped away.

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