Adaptive Curmudgeon

Phenology Report

Why didn’t someone tell me how easy it could be? All I had to do was blog about it and get waylaid halfway through my thoughts. It was exactly that moment that became the inflection point.

Shall I explain? It came about in the depths of despair, as cruel iced misery bit by bit eroded yours truly (and indeed all northerners). The endgame went from normal minor annoyance to grim fatalism. Fate went long on a grinding war of attrition and for a while it held all the cards. Hope faded and is seemed winter would never end.

Punch drunk and weary I started posting a series of “Winter Vignettes”. Is it overwrought to call them a last ditch effort to preserve the zeitgeist before going down for the count? Yeah. It’s overwrought. Then again you had to be there.

Sometime after my fourth post, things changed. The noose slacked… just a bit. That’s all it took.
Hope blooms anew. There are certainly no robins in the yard but there’s at least the feeling that they’ll eventually return.

So there you have it. A new Curmudgeonly phenological observation: when the Curmudgeon starts muttering darkly about “preserving some memory of the struggle” it’s almost spring.

Other observations:

And that’s the phenology report from Curmudgeon Compound.

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