You made my eyes twinkle, Gerard. The last line of the poem is in jest of anticipating an amber alert:
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In Re: "Ambition is a poor excuse for not having sense enough to be lazy."- McCarthy
Perhaps wisdom is knowing how to be so ambitious and dilligent that everything you do looks effortless - and you can look to be (and can be) - lazy.
Spring? Not even if the rodent is blind. We got a month and a half before we talk of spring.
Until I went to sea, I had no idea that the first hint of land would be smell, not sight.
That's what you describe. We're at sea, but we're coming home.
Ah, shoreacres, your post reminded me of the opening chapter in James Michener's Iberia, where he is at sea and is carried aboard a Valencian boat with barrels of oranges in briny seawater, and the first scent from Spain to greet him is orange blossoms.
Mudluscious...the word always makes me think of Sr. Mary Catherine...12th grade English.
Waiting for that smell...that lace of green appearing in the trees.
Jewel - Oranges, sea brine, blossoms and boats. Now, that's perfect!
I don't know, Gerard. I saw that first hint yesterday, even the child - for whom everything is still Spring - mentioned that "it's sun time." I just sort of grunted "Sure. Sun. See you in June."
I should stop being such a sourpuss.
Not too early at all: today, in SW PA, I noticed a few birds singing, just for the heck of it, for the first time this season. :)
What a wonder-full thing to wake up to. I wish I had read it first this morning.
The earth does not get closer to the sun in Northern Hemisphere summer. It actually gets a little further away.
The seasons are caused by the direction of the tilt, which does not change. One one side of the sun the north pole points away from the sun, so the Northern Hemisphere gets less sun (winter). On the other side of the sun(half a year later) the opposite happens.
The north pole points to the North Star (Polaris) all year around, proving the axis of the earth does not change.
Gerard, what do you do for money these days? Serious question.
Mud-luscious, good descriptive for this post, and in the old English February was that month, but it was called "Solmonath," mud month.
Here in the Colorado Rockies we love to hate the spring breakup. The clean white snow dissolves into nearly bottomless brown mud. I am always reminded that it wasn't the Russian winters that stopped the Wehrmacht, it was the Russian spring.
Just-spring . . . means Spring Training and the return of the boys of summer. Maybe the mud of a February thaw even in New England is a kind of Spring Training for the soul.
We have 4" high lillies in the front yard. Yay!