Yesterday was spring.
Today looks like winter.
I climbed the Poindexter Memorial ladder to the Goat Barn roof to find courses of shingles sharply delineated by last night’s inch and a half of snow.
From on high, white blankets and obscures the gardener’s first scratchings on spring soil.
This morning, fat flakes are falling from the gray sky.
The birdfeeder is busy with chickadees, titmice, downy and hairy and red bellied woodpeckers, juncos, and the occasional house finch. On the ground below, doves, sparrows, and turkeys glean.
On the ground, snowladen first-early daffodils bow their heads.
They wait for the sun to return.