Imbolc Hare Moon
Out to lunch celebrating the submission of Missing.
An often unremarked aspect of the thaw is how ugly things become. The pristine whiteness that softened and reshaped the landscape becomes gritty, pocked with an icy crust. Then, when it recedes, like a glacier retreating up a mountain valley, there is a debris field. The difference of course is that in this case the debris is cigarette butts, condom wrappers, rubber bands, bottle tops and other objects discarded, perhaps back in November near the spot where they resurface.
This is why an early public services task here is street sweeping, since no one likes the looks of our road sides filled with the litter of three plus months. Then in the lawns there are small tunnels and nests of dead grass where the voles have lived under the snowpack. Too, there is often a mold on the faded lawn, as if Miss Haversham had taken over in the neglect occasioned by winter.
All this though gets swept aside and forgotten as the lawns green, the trees bud and the first flowers begin to emerge. The streets are clean, the lawns growing. Soon it will time to get into the garden.
