Spring. Rejuvenation. Rebirth. Everything’s Blooming. All That Crap.

I quote this deathless sentiment that George Constanza spoke when thinking of a way to postpone his upcoming nuptials.  As evidenced in my recent post of the mallard photo, life is returning to Southern New England.  This exhibits itself in a random walk up and down the thermometer and barometer.  We’ll have 70 degrees F followed by a foot of snow and back again in dizzying alternation.  It’s very much as if a spiteful nature deity is heaping abuse on the home of the staunchest believers in global warming.  Of course, we innocent bystanders also suffer but shoveling wet heavy snow is good for the soul.  Anyway, without a doubt, spring is in the air.  Plants and animals are stirring and even I, your ancient but faithful chronicler of all things interesting to the deplorable, is feeling 17% spryer.

So, in the interest of full disclosure I’ll be taking a little trip between the Sixteenth and Twenty First of March.  During this interval, I will be both frequently outside of wi-fi range and too occupied with death-defying heroics to post.  I will do my best to provide some content but I fear it will be sub-par in both quantity and quality.  I apologize in advance and beg your patience.  I am hopeful that the trip will provide a goodly stock of interesting photos and narrative.  Until then I will endeavor to provide the usual mixture of irascible political opinion, sophomoric parody, self-important book, music and film reviews and general harping on the foibles of human behavior.

And right on queue a foot of snow was dumped on us last night.  Apparently snow holds no terrors for the mallards but the weather gods are certainly making it difficult for me to get to work.  Guess I’ll just work from home today.

 

Aftermath of 07MAR2018 Snow Storm

 

Aftermath of 07MAR2018 Snow Storm

 

Aftermath of 07MAR2018 Snow Storm

 

Mallards on the Puddle in the Aftermath of 07MAR2018 Snow Storm

 

Mallards on the Puddle in the Aftermath of 07MAR2018 Snow Storm

 

Mallards on the Puddle in the Aftermath of 07MAR2018 Snow Storm

 

Mallards on the Puddle in the Aftermath of 07MAR2018 Snow Storm

 

 

End of Summer Blues

 

In New England, the end of summer is akin to how it must have felt to the pyramid-building slaves when their break period was about to end.  A wonderful but horribly short respite was giving way to endless unimaginable agony.  And this cycle would repeat itself until merciful death interceded.  It’s just like that.

Summer is breathtakingly beautiful because of the contrast to what follows.  It was less than 40F here this morning.  On the second day of September.  Still summer!  And it goes rapidly downhill from here.  Sure, we’ll have some warm days.  Over eighty sometimes.  But it’s just a cruel tease meant to highlight just how bad things will soon be.  In the last decade or so New England has unleashed a new and terrifying alternative to winter storms.  This is where a freezing rain or snow descends on us in October while the trees are still full of leaves.  The trees in this condition hold onto much more snow and ice than normally and therefore huge branches and limbs can break off the trees.  And that’s how millions of people end up without power for days or even weeks.  So, what you have is houses without heat, some without a stove, some without water, which means without toilets.  It’s such a joy.  So, installing an emergency generator really isn’t an extreme decision.  It’s sort of mandatory if you want to eat and drink and stay warm and go to the bathroom and, you know, live.

So, why am I writing about this?  Well mostly to let you people living in other parts of the country know how lucky you are.  Sure, they have hurricanes down south and earthquakes in the west and tornadoes in between but those only very infrequently effect you.  Here we know as sure as night follows day that we will be wet, miserable and cold for eight months of the year, every year until we die or we have the good sense to get the hell out of this purgatorial region.

And why don’t I leave?  Ah, I am bound with the strongest and most adamantine of chains, the grandmother/grandchildren bond.  If a woman is possessed of an industrial strength maternal instinct (as, sadly, Camera Girl is) then no power in the ‘Verse short of a strategic thermonuclear strike will pry her away from these rugrats.

So here I am.  The rollercoaster is at the top of the lift hill and the slow ratchet up is done.  We’re staring down but the bottom has not yet dropped out of our stomachs.  Here we go.

End of depressing preamble.

So, I’ve got this cool three-day weekend.  Some relatives are coming up.  I’m going out to take some seasonal photos and I’m bound to hang out with the grandsons too.  Plus, the mystery of the disappearing quail needs to be answered.  I’ve put out a game camera and hope to catch some photos of them gamboling around in the woods and thickets.  And finally, I’m finishing up the available Cowboy Bebop discs from Netflix.  I decided to try out another anime title (Ghost in the Shell 2.0) and it just arrived.  All in all, it sounds like I’ll be having a very good time.

A very happy and relaxing Labor Day Holiday to all you good folks out there reading OCF.  I’ll have more serious stuff right along soon but today just enjoy a good rest and do something fun.