So, another Saturday, another Ice Age Trail work morning. This time, restoring the oak savannah on the trail just east of us.
Aside from the trail guys, we have a handful of Hoofers helping. (For the innocent – Hoofers are UW’s outdoor club.) Volunteers come and go – few are repeaters. Except for us. Call us the old guys. With graying hair and stiffening limbs that appreciate the regular workout. See you again, soon. Yeah.
Evening at the farmhouse. Friends (Diane and Ernest) drive down from St Paul, pausing here on their way south. I think how interesting it would be to know that this is the final week-end of wraps and long sleeves, that from now until October, the air will never again feel cold.
I tell Ed that the season of brown (March and a good part of April) up here is never pretty. He disagrees. Look around, he prods me.
Well okay, on a bright sunny day. If you can forget about the mud and clumps of wet fallen leaves.
We eat Greek foods and drink pink wine...
... and I let myself think that we are far closer to spring than we really are.
