02.12.16  The DAYS of sunshine have come to their expected end and rain is in the forecast for the remainder of the week–sometimes mixed with snow.  I sense that the author of NOAA’s zone forecast is feeling Spring in the air, writing with a bit of poetry:

“Moisture streaming over the apex of the ridge of high pressure today will keep continuous cloud cover…the main source of moisture will occur after midnight, and will gradually lift northwards from Oregon and spread across Idaho and western Montana through Friday morning.”

It makes me think of the magnificent photos sent from the International Space Station, with the astronaut looking down on Earth, watching cloud cover and storms from the perspective of 220 miles away.

But, RAIN–I find myself getting thrilled to the idea of spring rains, sitting by the cozy fire, reading the new book currently on its way to me in the mail, basking in bright white light coming in the glass doors to the living room. I am sorry that, once again, the big Pond Hockey tournament next week end has already been moved from Foy’s Lake to the little pond in Woodland Park.  Early in Winter, it looked so inevitable that the hundreds of players coming from Canada would skate on beautiful blue ice, with that stunning view of white peaks in Glacier to warm their hearts.  Alas, Spring pushes her way in.  Like in this photo I took on my run, looking up the hill to the blue sky, and seeing ice sickles which turned to dripping water when I was finished.

There’s no way to keep happiness at bay, once winter begins to melt away.

Coming
by Philip Larkin

On longer evenings,
Light, chill and yellow,
Bathes the serene
Foreheads of houses.
A thrush sings,
Laurel-surrounded
In the deep bare garden,
Its fresh-peeled voice
Astonishing the brickwork.
It will be spring soon,
It will be spring soon —
And I, whose childhood
Is a forgotten boredom,
Feel like a child
Who comes on a scene
Of adult reconciling,
And can understand nothing
But the unusual laughter,
And starts to be happy.