Testing my Patience
April is the ultimate test of patience:
Shivering in spring jackets, because we can no longer stand to layer ourselves in winter wear; fingers icy because we refuse to wear gloves for even one more day; wiping snow off the car with our sleeves because, frankly, we are fed up.
Watching the snow melt, only to wake up to earth covered – once again – in snow; waiting for the ice to break up in the bay; driving deliberately through puddles so the spray scatters onto snowbanks in the hopes they will melt just a little bit more.
Patience brings rewards, too:
That first glimpse of salty water under the bridge and rivers beginning to flow once more.
An edge of lawn; a blade of green grass.
Sand and waves and a single piece of sea glass.
April can be a cruel month, but the rewards are worth the wait.
It seems counterintuitive to think of ice as a sign that winter is coming to an end. But these odd formations have appeared in my backyard, below the eaves of my house. They are the result of snow melting from the roof. Although it is still cold enough that it freezes, this gives me some hope that winter is near its end.
There are many ways to enjoy winter in Northern New Brunswick: skiing, snowshoeing, skidooing, skating, and sledding. By the time spring officially arrives, however, I am ready for its end. I crave flip flops and walks on the beach, campfires and balmy summer nights. I am done with all the whiteness and not being able to see around corners when I back out of my driveway.
We are not done with winter weather yet, but at least there are signs that it is beginning to end.
Below the trees, where the light barely reaches, the melted snow had created a small pond. Part ice and part water, the trees reflected here and there.
It is a natural abstract.
This makes me very happy.
Tiny little red pompoms appearing on the branches, pops of colour that change the view outside my windows on a daily basis.
I don’t even care that the pollen litters the driveway and plugs up my sinuses.
I am just happy to enjoy every minute of this beautiful season.
I took my camera into the backyard this morning. As I stood there searching for photo possibilities, I listened to the birds singing and felt grateful for the final arrival of spring.
But there was another sound, too.
A faint crinkling came from the ground, leaving me to believe there could be snakes slithering near my feet. I stood still, ready to flee should I spot them. The more I listened, however, the more I realized it couldn’t possibly be snakes as the sound seemed to be coming from all around me.
It took me a moment to realize what the sound was: the grass pushing through the dried leaves covering the earth.
It was the sound of the grass growing.
If you’ve been following my posts, you know that I have been waiting (impatiently) for the snow to melt. I have been itching to go to the beach, but until this week there was so much ice and snow that it wouldn’t have been safe, let alone enjoyable.
The snow is not completely gone, but the beach is finally accessible.
I took a drive to my favourite spot for collecting sea glass, and spent more than two hours wandering the shoreline.
It was bliss.
I was the only person on the beach, with the salt breeze and the rushing water as company. The tide was out and the sea glass was plentiful.
The only difficulty was leaving.
It may not be pretty, but this picture makes me very happy.
For six months, this corner of our back deck has been covered in snow. This is the corner outside my back door, where I go to hang clothes.
For six months, I haven’t been able to access this spot.
Now, finally, with the promise of sun today and a little corner to stand on, I can hang out some clothes on the line.
It’s not much, but it’s enough.
If I can’t have spring colours outside, then I’ll make sure I can have them inside.
Pretty pink tulips brighten up my table.
I found these pictures on a camera I use mainly for travel (and apparently have not used since last spring!).
They brought back memories of a fun weekend upriver: camping, fishing, and four-wheeling.
In this seemingly endless winter, the photos are also a happy reminder that spring does, in fact, exist.