Old Snow Just Melting is the title of a poem in a book of poetry by Robert Bly, a Minnesota poet. He used to write nice imagist poetry, much like that of William Carlos Williams. Now, if I were to retitle this particular poem, I’d call it “Old Snow
Not Melting” because we have a full winter’s worth of snow here, and it’s not going anywhere, at least not yet.

And there’s even more on the way, or says the fellow who lives in the weather radio that we have nailed to our kitchen cupboard. And I believe him. He’s seldom on target with the long-range forecast, but he is usually dead on with what’s going on at the moment. Yep, it’s

Pete clearing off the hoop house

now eight degrees out. Yep, it’s snowing. Yep there’s a slight breeze. Gotcha. In the past 48 hours he’s constantly reaffirmed that it’s snowing, and is going to continue to snow.

I’m generally upbeat about unpredictable weather, and I’am always the first one to say “bring it on!” But I’m not at all enthused about the latest run of storms that seem to have blown into our area. In fact, it’s unsettling. I’m just not used to it both being light and snowy at 9:30 p.m.

This odd weather is indicative of climate change. Can’t deny this is happening. We humans have fouled our nest, and are only making half-hearted attempts to clean it up. We’ve begun to wallow in our filth. And there’s no end in sight. We’re reproducing at an exponential rate, and our food supply is dwindling. Farms are being subsumed by housing developers. What can we do? I guess focus on immediate concerns. Shovel, shovel, and shovel some more.

It’s now just a matter of staying ahead of things, and making interludes for the unexpected. Yesterday, as Pete was focusing on immediate concerns, the tractor tire went flat. So now it must be run to the tire shop and be repaired. Meanwhile, other things need to be done. The snow’s piling up on the roofs, so they’ll need to be shoveled off. The trails are filling in with snow, they’ll need to be shoveled out. I’ll soon head on out and shovel out the trail leading up behind the hoop house. It’s where we’re now putting the bulk of our manure. Trudge, trudge, trudge. We’ll someday expand the fence, enclose it, and plant raspberry bushes.

The horses are now standing around, eating, and then waiting to eat more food. I think that they turn their brains off at times like this. I took all five for walks yesterday afternoon, after the plow rumbled by. I first took Tinni out. Pete came-with on the second go-around and walked Siggi. I walked Signy and Hrimmi. We had an encounter with a semi as it came around the bend. It was dropping off a load of lumber and building supplies at a neighbor’s place. Neighbor’s family is growing. Raise High the Roof Beam Carpenter. Gotta lift the roof and build bedrooms for the two kids.

The semi’s airbrakes startled the horses who immediately decided to giddy up. We rounded them up and herded them into a neighbor’s driveway. Stood a short distance from his American flag, which is at half-mast. This, in reference to “this country sucks.” The truck rolled past, and we continued on our walk.

Do I sound disgruntled? The subtext here is that I’m more than ready for Spring. In the meantime, it’s an opportune time for me to concentrate on finishing up indoor things. I got my proposal on composting into the mail, which would not have happened if the weather had been conducive to being outside. Soon enough it will be time to Giddy Up.

Next: 99. 4/9/12: Feeling Virtuous