After hovering at 10 degrees F for several days, the temperature shot up! Here it says 52 but it made it to 60 degrees by the end of the day yesterday. As neighbors emerged from their homes to jog and walk dogs in shorts and windbreakers, "Whooppees!" were heard ringing through the land.
Simon took advantage of the mild weather to climb onto the house. He claims the chimney was blocked but I think he just likes to get up on the roof when this old world starts to get him down.
And here is the yard, mid thaw. The snow is almost gone (and as I write this it is completely gone) and the yard is full of slushy puddles just right for Frederick to jump in. (Note fish catching apparati still in place. Of the 12 fish (I thought we only had 11 but accidentally caught a black one I didn't know was still alive) we had at the start of winter, I now have transferred 6 into the basement. It's amazing how hard it is to catch fish with a 5 year old chanting, "Fish! Fish!" right next to you as you trawl the pond with a crappy (but expensive) pond net. I can see them surface from our dining room window but by the time I get outside they have settled themselves onto the bottom in the ooze. I'm really tired of the annual "struggle to catch fish for weeks and weeks" ritual. The only reward is seeing "Goldeen," a fish we have had for 4 winters now, get frightening large. We've gotten good money out of that 10 cent feeder fish.)
Of course, what you don't think about when you are celebrating the melting of 3 feet of snow is, "Where is all that water going?" Because we all know, with the ground frozen 3 or more feet down, it can't be absorbed into the soil. "Oh well, one of those mysteries," you tell yourself. Until, just before bed, barefoot and sleepy, you go to the basement to clean the catbox and discover all the dirty laundry that was sorted into color piles on the floor in front of the washing machine floating in 3 inches of icy cold water. Shit. Shit. Shit. So rather than curl up with a good book you got for Christmas you get to haul out the wet/dry vac (you know all the zing has gone out of life when you have one of those to hand) and set to work. Since last night Simon and I have vacuumed up 12 tankfuls (50 gallons each) and the steady seepage shows no sign of stopping. But a deep freeze is predicted to hit us tonight and so the water should refreeze and the seepage should stop. And as the water freezes shouts of "Whoopee!" will ring through the land.
Simon took advantage of the mild weather to climb onto the house. He claims the chimney was blocked but I think he just likes to get up on the roof when this old world starts to get him down.
And here is the yard, mid thaw. The snow is almost gone (and as I write this it is completely gone) and the yard is full of slushy puddles just right for Frederick to jump in. (Note fish catching apparati still in place. Of the 12 fish (I thought we only had 11 but accidentally caught a black one I didn't know was still alive) we had at the start of winter, I now have transferred 6 into the basement. It's amazing how hard it is to catch fish with a 5 year old chanting, "Fish! Fish!" right next to you as you trawl the pond with a crappy (but expensive) pond net. I can see them surface from our dining room window but by the time I get outside they have settled themselves onto the bottom in the ooze. I'm really tired of the annual "struggle to catch fish for weeks and weeks" ritual. The only reward is seeing "Goldeen," a fish we have had for 4 winters now, get frightening large. We've gotten good money out of that 10 cent feeder fish.)
Of course, what you don't think about when you are celebrating the melting of 3 feet of snow is, "Where is all that water going?" Because we all know, with the ground frozen 3 or more feet down, it can't be absorbed into the soil. "Oh well, one of those mysteries," you tell yourself. Until, just before bed, barefoot and sleepy, you go to the basement to clean the catbox and discover all the dirty laundry that was sorted into color piles on the floor in front of the washing machine floating in 3 inches of icy cold water. Shit. Shit. Shit. So rather than curl up with a good book you got for Christmas you get to haul out the wet/dry vac (you know all the zing has gone out of life when you have one of those to hand) and set to work. Since last night Simon and I have vacuumed up 12 tankfuls (50 gallons each) and the steady seepage shows no sign of stopping. But a deep freeze is predicted to hit us tonight and so the water should refreeze and the seepage should stop. And as the water freezes shouts of "Whoopee!" will ring through the land. 
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