A list of things released from the snow banks or recently dropped: a perfectly unbruised Granny Smith apple; two foil packets marked “HYPE”; dog shit; pine cones; pine branches; rhodie branches; nut hulls; more dog shit. Up and over the hill — a river of catalpa pods, as if Winter set out to weave a basket edge to the sidewalk and gave up in fatigue. On Wakefield: a wicker Santa head; a blue puzzle piece (sky? ocean?); Corona beer caps. Back on Jackson: bags with squished remains of lunch; foil; shards of a paper plate; small branches; large branches. At the end of one driveway, a newspaper disgorged from plastic, wet and re-wet and driven over so many times it is tempting to the papermaker in me, but I know I could never bring myself to shovel it up (because it would require forethought? because I want to see how long it stays there? because the papermaking supplies are who-knows-where?). Everywhere: dog shit. On some telephone poles: plastic covered appeals for neighbors to pick up their dog shit. An old water bottle filled with bird seed. Looking up for a moment: a hawk sails to the south, with specks of audacious passerines flapping behind. Down low: pine branches; oak branches; sycamore hulls; and dirt, dirt, dirt.
Here and there: brave spades of hosta shoving aside ice and dirty snow, making their proclamations of spring.
Rounding the corner to the house (here, I let the leash go and command “go home!”): mud, hemlock detritus, an entire row of hosta (mine) peeking up. It is snowing again. Did I mention that?
I am wondering if I shall find whatever pieces of myself fell off during this winter. There seems no guarantee.
sounds like you are psyching up for a big spring clean Dee
I would like to continue clearing out. Yes. The stuck and tired places. The dead collections. The things saved that’ll never be used.
Its like the river of life froze solid and now all the shit that should have swept on downstream is still there to be contemplated. Educational, but depressing, except for the emerging green that shows that release is at hand. Good luck in clearing the detritus inside and out.
Yes it is a depressing trove. So much clean up to be done. But the green will compensate for a lot. The snow drops are pushing up in the south side of the house where the brick radiates heat!
It just never occurred to me what would be frozen in place!
i must have a really odd mind, i didn’t find it depressing at all…but loved reading along…
it’s just the marks of winterpassage to me….i love how you paced it, how it was as if
i was walking along with you, you pointing, and then i saw you look UP and i looked UP
and we saw the hawk
The only depressing part to me was all the dog crap. The rest just seemed like signs if a long winter and because there was such an accumulation maybe a little like relics of a passed time (longer ago than a single season)
Detritus. Poetry of the thaw. It’s a somewhat putrid scene with the raptor showing defiant direction, trailed by passerines. Will the earth cooperate and regenerate, once more…? Please cleanse this for us, we are spent. Lovely writing.
Please cleanse us and normalize (is that even possible anymore)?