The calendar says spring, but outside my window now, snowflakes are sifting gently but steadily down from the sky.
It's been a strange winter, with March making up for the almost snow-free February with interest.
C put the skis and snowshoes away in the barn loft a month ago, and at least two feet of the white stuff has fallen since then.
Spring in Maine may be a state of mind and not an actual season, but the birds have gotten into the spirit—woodpeckers drumming, chickadees whistling "hey sweetie," and the little tufted titmouse tweeting "chiva-chiva."
Meanwhile, I've been sequestered indoors, doggedly working toward my self-imposed deadline of completing my book by April 1.
I don't think I'll make it, but I'll be close. Closer if I could just learn to say "no" to all kinds of things that sound a lot more fun than reading tomes on environmental law and geology.
While I have avoided most other writing projects—including this blog—I haven't only been writing the book.
There's been skiing and snowshoeing and hiking and walking up and down the muddy driveway, depending on the weather.
And twice I've gone "up north" on birding expeditions to see crossbills, which are pretty much like coming across parrots in the wilds of Maine. So beautiful (and they like to hang out on the road shoulders, nibbling gravel).
The boys have had A LOT of snow days, like double-digits snow days.
Sometimes I'm fun snow day mom, who plays games and watches movies and makes treats like snow ice cream or German apple pan cake.
Sometimes I'm "go outside and then read quietly in your room while I get some work done. No Minecraft" mom.
It is, no doubt, premature to call this a winter "roundup" while snow drifts around outside my window—kind of like C putting away the winter gear in mid-February. Stay tuned for "winter addendum."