Well, there's no reason to pretend otherwise: it was a treacherous morning: a cold, freezing cold morning that blustered in overnight, freezing every melted strip of water or slush, freezing it so solid that nothing heartwarming can be said of it.
I do have the colors of breakfast for you and I must post these because otherwise the bleakness of this day would stand out. Do note the flowers: the last days of February in the upper Midwest must have flowers brought to kitchen tables. They make life sane.
Immediately after breakfast I struggled to get into the Donkey car and, predictably, I could not get the doors open. With a still sore back, I wasn't ready to climb in through the hatch and so I had Ed run out in his nighttime attire to help me out.
The country roads were covered with frozen slush, the winds blew horrific gusts of icy snow across any bare patch of asphalt.
In the city, the street were manageable but the sidewalks were a mess. Winter was taking a final brave stand here -- showing off all that it can do.
Sometime while I am tucked away in the law building, things settle down. The sun even comes out for a bit. But the cold stays with us.
Back at the farmette, nothing seems photographable (rare is the day that I think that). The light dusting of snow on trees no longer looks unusual or delightful.
It seems tired. Done that already. Let's move on. (I'm not unreasonable: I'll accept a solid February snowfall, but this isn't that. It's an ice over, without the benefits of a good base for, say, skiing.)
Reluctantly, I take out the camera -- my good one no less, as my pocket guy is away for yet another repair. Click. There you go. With a bit of blue. A patch of hope.
It is unfortunate that the night is bitter cold. Ed and I are out attending a Plan Commission meeting where the long term fate of the fields around us is being debated. I have to say, in the long long run, it's a foregone conclusion: the beautiful fields that give us so many market fruits, vegetables and flowers will, I think, one day be developed. We're too conveniently close to downtown Madison. It's a dream spot, really, for that sprawling entity called the never ending suburb. But not now, not yet, not when we have development elsewhere, pushing its way in all directions!
The skies are clear. We're heading significantly into negative temperature territory. May it be the last really cold spell this winter. We're hardy souls up here in the northern Midwest, but let's switch air currents now for the rest of winter. No more Arctic blasts. We're ready to move on.