Friday, February 25, 2022

The tune your bones play as you keep going

February snow for us today, after a freak February fake spring Wednesday that reached nearly 65 degrees. I went out that afternoon with my long lopping shears and attacked the Rosa rugosa, carefully tossing the thorny branches over our tall fence into the back yard. I made it out nearly unscathed, just one fingertip embedded with the tiny spikes (my ferocious gardening regularly wears holes in my good work gloves). In the end, I took pity on one very small clump of rugosa, but I may reconsider and shear it to the ground (I should. I probably will). After the ground thaws, I'll dig up as many of the roots as I eventual plan is to replace it with this and this and maybe this and this.

But I'm here now, and now there's dry snow rushing from the sky in clouds, greying the windows. We walked Clover over to Deering Oaks into wind that was shockingly cold, snow that felt sharp on our faces. She chased sticks up and down the hill, and we watched passing plows push plumes of snow into the air along the highway beside the park. The walk home put the wind at our backs. I was thinking about Ukraine the whole time, wondering what the weather is like there right now.*

Abominable Snow Dog

*It's raining lightly in Kyiv, and residents are barricading themselves in their homes, having been instructed how to make Molotov cocktails.

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