Give It Up for Feet
Peas Glorious Peas

The Winter Hangover

March may be the official start of spring, but at least here in New England it is about as far from all things pastel as a person can get. 

March is the filthy, bleary-eyed morning after a frat party.

The ground squelches and slurps with each moist step.  Viscous fluids slick boots and cuffs.

Boston Garden pond 031514

Mud 032214

People shuffle.  Wary.  Waiting to fall.

Snow puddles 030814
  Ice walk 022214

Eyes squint in protest of the unfamiliar brightness of the sun.

Sun through clouds 022014
The world is thick with smells both ripe and sour.  Skunk Cabbages unfurl in winter's icy runoff. Furry skunks awake, stumble about in the dark and leave their own particular trail. 

Skunk cabbage 022214

Items abandoned during the snow drunk days of  winter, now lie scattered across the landscape: an old menu, flattened beer cans, frozen tennis balls, hats hung like Christmas Eve, oh so many widowed gloves, even a slipper that had no call to be out of doors.

Hat in tree 030213

Slipper 031614

In the months to come we'll remember winter's highlights, its beauty and joys, but right now winter is a party that went on for way too long,  and there's a hell of a lot of cleaning to be done.  

Trees snow 012211

My shadow 012211

Tree sunset 012211

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