Two suburbanite boomers throw caution to the wind, postpone retirement, and move to a farm in Indiana. There they intend to live happily ever after.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
The Last Gift of Winter
At one point last week, the swamp took the driveway. As in, we had to put metal guide posts in or we wouldn't have been able to see where it was under the water. Discouraging, to say the least.
Then a neighbor knocked on the door, introduced himself, and told us the whole area had flooded because a snapping turtle had gotten wedged in the drainage pipe. The neighbor had taken a backhoe to the situation and removed the turtle, and we could expect the driveway to drain in a day or so. Which, thankfully, it did.
And look what happened then.
A thin skim of ice remained around trees and tufts of weeds when the water was high. The water fell during the day, and a second layer of thin ice formed that night. Again the water fell out from under it. In some places, there were three layers hovering in the air above the water, as if suspended by magic.
As the sun lit them up, one layer would collapse on another with a sound like chiming crystal.
It's been a long, rough winter. But it made a graceful exit.