More snow yesterday. It wasn’t all that much but it was very heavy and wet and seemed to be the hardest to shovel so far. I am sure that was due, in part, to my muscles and back screaming, “No more!”
The truth? I don’t care anymore. I’m so friggin’ sick of this month’s weather that I simply don’t care. If I’m snowed in, I’m snowed in. If my car gets buried, so be it. If my mail can’t be delivered, I can plead ignorance when it comes time to pay the bills. If the ice in my gutters never melts, it’s okay by me.
I give up. It’s too much for one person. My body is tired. My brain has turned to mush. I surrender.
Even Scout is sick of it and that girl normally loves snow. The very cold temperatures we’ve been having have been very hard on her arthritis. She’s having a tough time.
Paint the kitchen? Are you kidding me? I never want to do any physical labor again.
Do some hand quilting on the quilt I made in Hartford? My hands are sore from shoveling.
I can just manage to click the shutter on my camera, which is what I did when I rolled up the blinds in the kitchen to discover this guy:
Cardinals are quick to move and I was shooting this through my window with my older camera. But the fact that my little elusive friend stayed on this branch for more than 10 seconds was a miracle. He made me smile.
And when I was shoveling I heard the sweet chirping of a little bird. For a split second I was reminded of spring and summer and the music of the birds that live with us on this property. Right now, it seems an impossibility, but I know that Spring will come. A bit late, and there may be mounds of snow around here until June, but it will come.