OverWinter
I am pleased to say that the White Witch of Winter has released her grasp on Goose Creek–maybe not forever, but for now.
The rutted road may be pocked by potholes, but even the potholes hold hints of spring. At last.
Fred First holds masters degrees in Vertebrate Zoology and physical therapy, and has been a biology teacher and physical therapist by profession. He moved to southwest Virginia in 1975 and to Floyd County in 1997. He maintains a daily photo-blog, broadcasts essays on the Roanoke NPR station, and contributes regular columns for the Floyd Press and Roanoke's Star Sentinel. His two non-fiction books, Slow Road Home and his recent What We Hold in Our Hands, celebrate the riches that we possess in our families and communities, our natural bounty, social capital and Appalachian cultures old and new. He has served on the Jacksonville Center Board of Directors and is newly active in the Sustain Floyd organization. He lives in northeastern Floyd County on the headwaters of the Roanoke River.
What? No mud season between winter and spring?
Bill
Isn’t it lovely to not see snow everywhere you look? And to walk outside without a coat? Now we’re waiting for the river to flood (I live near the Greenbrier). The rising water won’t affect me directly, but it will close the road to town if it gets high enough.
After a few days of rain at the first of the week, it seems everything here on the Texas coast is busting out green. Even the fig tree that never grows is covered in baby, pale green leaves.
Hang in there, Mistress Spring is on her way to the mountains.