Pre-Ramble:  When we lived in Arizona, “snow bird” was a demographic. Every year in late November, people from all parts North would migrate into town. Seriously, the population would double – every road, resort and restaurant clogged with leisurely-driving, turquoise-wearing, Early-Bird-Special-eating tourists.  

And the thing was, we weren’t on vacation. We were just trying to live our lives … going to the grocery store to find food, … going to the bank to cash a check, … going to the park to scald ourselves on the play equipment, … or going to the mall to get out of the ”dry heat.”  And let me remind you that pizza ovens are dry heat. 

Anyway, here it is, March 31st in Saint Paul, Minnesota, and there are gigantic clusters of snowflakes falling outside (not them above). It’s just rude. The indignant expression on the beak of the tufted titmouse (photograph by Allison Trentelman) says it all. We have totally been duped. All of that chirping, melting and sunshiney-ness going on last week was just a cruel scam. In light of this development, I must concede that my recent blog announcing the arrival of spring may have been premature.

The Take-Away: Consider this a retraction on my previous proclamation of spring until such time as there are some more concrete indicators — a green blade of grass; a flower sticking up through the frozen crust of leaves; quacking sounds from the pond across the street; squirrels. In the meantime, to take your mind off the disobedient weather, visit more of Allison’s beautiful photography at her online shop and blog.

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