So what if April is the cruelest month?

February has got to be the dirtiest.  As feared and expected after the snow evaporated we were treated to everything that was left underneath, plus all the delightful dogshit that owners blithely left behind.

It has indeed been a long, hard winter.  I feel like a bear coming out of hibernation complete with a thick coat and added fat to keep me, eh hem, warm.  I am looking out at my backyard littered with plastic toys, construction debris, possum (I kid you not) feces, and last fall's leaves.  I am so out of shape that I can barely pick up a pencil, much less a rake or hoe.  If I were easier to embarrass I would have cleaned up this mess last fall, but I did not, and now I feel like I'll have to get physical and psycho therapy just to do something about it.  Am I feeling the insidiousness of middle age?  Or is it just the creakiness of a winter spent hunkered down?

In the fall I planted some Japanese maple saplings and burning bush.  I can see the burning bush from my window.  It was buried in the snow for weeks.  Maybe I should warm up a stethoscope and check them for signs of life.  Maybe I should do the same for myself.