I’ve mentioned that it’s rural around here. It’s really exquisite. After thirty years in Maine and seventeen in Rhode Island dealing with New England winters, I am experiencing a gentleness to the weather that is everything it’s cracked up to be. Yes, I know later it will be hot. It will be so hot that it will be like breathing an inferno. So hot you 'cain’t hardly move', or so I’ve been told by some locals. But last night it was warm enough to sleep with the window wide open, and I listened to the night sounds. They were plentiful. The sound of a train in the distance, horse knickers, cows lowing, an occasional bird, the heron, grumbling, and late- or early- in the morning, coyotes.
This morning it’s 63 degrees inside the apartment from having the window open all night. Not bad. March means it’s time to plant and I’ve got some morning glory seeds to strew around, and in April I’ll get some cactus in pots for the deck. Spring has sprung!