The march toward Spring is such a cruel thing around here. We get those delightful warm days when the temperature may even flirt with 50, and all that bright and almost-warming sunshine, and we start making plans and schemes that involve boats and bikes and being outside, and then the temps plummet like a stone and it's 19 degrees when you wake up. Things are poking up out of the ground, which is a little advanced and probably a mistake on their part. Some of the mess from December's incredibly destructive ice storm is finally free of snow and ice and getting cleaned up, but the broken trees that are just everywhere will be visible for years to come.
Only got out on the bike once this week, and there was still ice on the ponds I rode by. Plan on getting out again today if it gets into the 40s as advertised, but there's a lot to do today and the timing is tight. We have ballet classes followed by ballet academy auditions followed by a promised trip to the ballet supply store in Saratoga, during which I intend to fulfill my chromosomal destiny and slip down the street to the bike store and drool over equipment I can't have. I may be reckless and buy some tires, who knows?
Road kill of the week is possum, but there's a pink bra in the middle of the road up the hill that is certainly vying for the title. It's road tested!
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