The snow is just about all gone, but the Arctic air has returned. A pair of bedraggled snow guys welcomed me to the bay.
The recent storms have taken a bite out of the shore–consider bringing a parachute if you come down the Scott Avenue entrance.
The air is a nippy 28 F–it would be lower but for the bay. Some pipers flit and tweet around me–they do not pay me much mind.
On the way back I opted to take the sidewalk. I stumbled upon a couple of good-sized pumpkins near a large dead hare, the bright oranges and blood red standing out on the gray ground.
The cold is deep. and getting deeper. Pipes will freeze, a few will burst. Winter is rough on all of us.
When I got home, I cleared away a few leaves from the edge of the basil box, and after a day of bone-chilling cold and a dead rabbit, the crocuses reminded me that warmer days are coming.
Imbolc is coming .