On this Monday morning, during an early run, the heavens were slate gray with low lying gray clouds cloaking the sky; the morning air was chilly and damp with a touch of rawness; and the March landscape, spare, austere and brown, had a light dusting of freshly-fallen snow from the passing overnight snow showers. As the miles passed, and I circled Spy Pond, where snow and ice blanketed the surface of the ancient pond, and I moved around the Mystic River, where the serene and placid river waters flowed eastward toward the ocean and where the river banks were a mosaic of fallow, brown patches and piles of frozen snow and ice, the natural world had the simple and unadorned elegance of late winter: even as a few snow flurries gracefully twirled through the raw, damp air, the gray heavens, visible through the brown silhouettes of gnarled tree branches, slowly softened to a mosaic of light blue patches, white puffy clouds, slate gray clouds, and soft, filtered yellow sunshine while the landscape, with a light dusting of fresh snow, continued its long winters slumber. In a tangled thicket of trees, bushes and underbrush near Spy Pond, a cardinal, its fiery and vividly red and crimson plumage a striking and dramatic contrast to the gray heavens, brown trees, and white, snowy fields, was playfully fluttering and flitting about. And, throughout my run, around Spy Pond, along the Mystic River, and in fields and trees, the presence of numerous orange-breasted robins subtly hinted that, despite the overnight snow showers, spring inexorably approaches from just over the horizon.
Posted on: Mon, 10 Mar 2014 18:08:28 +0000
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