Bring It On!

Rain, Rain, go Away.
It has been a wet weekend here in Vermont. The rain coming off of a warm coastal storm drenched southern New England. Then it drifted north and hit us too, though less severely. It did, however manage to melt most all of the snow left in the backyard. With  the snow gone, I made a few discoveries.

I discovered about a dozen lost dog toys. Tennis balls, and squeaky toys lost throughout the winter. It was like Christmas morning for my lab. There were lots of "other things" left behind by the dog over the course of the winter as well. (I'm not looking forward to collecting those presents from under the tree, though.)

I also discovered all of the little gardening projects that I didn't finish last fall. No magical gnomes came to finish them over the winter, though I keep hoping. The flower gardens that I abandoned at the first snowfall still need work. The dead tree branches blown down by winter storms are still there. The blanket of white erased them for a while, but they never really left. We have the normal mole activity beneath the snowpack that I will need to rake out, but we also have a few areas that the frost decided to push and pull on.

Ground frost is a powerful thing. You won't find it everywhere. There are lots of areas in the northeast that are free from ground frost. Perhaps they have better drainage. Perhaps they clear more of the snow. Whatever causes it, ground frost is a formidable force her in Vermont. We even named our basketball team after it.

Ice is strong enough to expand in the dirt and send sections of earth skyward. Under the pavement of your favorite by-way, frost heaves can make a Sunday drive seem like a motorcross event. One particular spot makes my Chevy jump and change lanes if I drive more than 25 mph across it. Don't ask what it does to my Jeep. That thing is meant for low gear only.

This year, the frost found a few spots in my back yard. It sent a patch of dirt under my grill up about four inches, then it turned an adjacent piece into a shallow pond. I stepped on the paving stones next to the wallow trying to circumnavigate the new landscaping feature, and they shot into the muck like a slip-and-slide. I managed to keep my pants clean that time, but I am steering clear just in case. I was really looking forward to grilling as soon as the rain stopped, but I don't want to pull on the muck boots to do it. I guess those Omaha Steaks will stay frozen a while longer.

Besides the dog's excitement, there has been some good to come of the melt this weekend's rain has brought. In a few choice spots where southern exposure or the warm wind graces it, I can see little green points emerging from the dirt. Our day lilies are alive. Amidst all of the chores, the mud, trash, and dog toys that were found beneath the snow, a glimmer of hope was found too. Those few shoots have really given me hope that spring will one day come. Hope that my son will be able to walk off of the deck without needing a change of clothes. Hope that the dirt will actually drain. Hope that warmer weather will actually let us use our lawn again.

My wife and I have been talking about what marks the first day of spring with my four-year-old. I said the first robin. They are waiting for the first spring flower. We have already found the first bug of the year, and whatever comes next: bird, bud, or black fly; I am glad to see it.