Sunday, March 2, 2008


I saw a robin today. That harbringer of spring was hopping around in 14 inches of snow.
I'm taking it as a sign of better weather coming.
Only encouraging comments allowed.
I'm sick of winter.


jeanie said...

Your post brought to mind a poem I read when I was young about Robins and weather - but unfortunately neither my memory nor Google can find it.

Here is to some warmth your way.

Bush Babe (of Granite Glen) said...

Oh dear... I can only imagine Winter through American blogs at the moment. We have a cool breeze here finally - it has been oppressingly sticky here as we are still in the grips of summer. Shall post some hot photos (weather wise!) shortly to warm you up!
In regard to your previous post (am too lazy to start a new comment!) I totally understand how religion can fail those when they need it most. How very sad for this family, brother and for the congregation who have lost these people from "the flock". How lucky we were to have our Bush Christening, where God and His Representative happily attended our event alongside our family and friends, mingling and responding as needed on the day.

Bush Babe (of Granite Glen) said...

PS Did I remember to say Thanks for linking me on your blog? You are too kind... hugs,

Hal Johnson said...

Judging by the din of toads, frogs, and crickets here across the country in northern California, spring has arrived. Sheesh, I love the sounds of the country at night, but for the last couple of evenings, I almost need earplugs.

debby said...

Hal, I wish for the sound of spring. And the feel of spring. And the smell of spring. This is my worst time of the year.

BB, I know that it is hot where you are at. I'm trying to feel sympathetic and I can't. I'm cold all the time. Sick of shoveling. Sick of snow. Sick of every plan being dependent on the weather. Whinge. Whinge. Etc.

Jeanie: The only poem that comes to mind is "The grass is green, the (something) riz, I wonder where the flowers is?" Being that one word escapes me, well, I guess it does not come to mind at all. In googling it, I came up with plenty of Walt Whitman. An essay about grass being nature showing us forgiveness (nice idea), and a poem about WW III and dead grass. A flickr display of green grass and masturbation. At that point, I decided I didn't care so much about that one word I couldn't remember. You're on your own.