As the snowbanks very slowly recede, E and I have taken to getting our nature walks in cemeteries, since the plowed and paved roads through them are much less wet and muddy than any woodland trails. Today we headed over to the famous Sleepy Hollow cemetery, and ended up on Author’s Ridge. Here’s Henry David Thoreau’s stone:
That’s right: evidently it’s a custom for visiting Thoreau-worshipers to leave him writing implements, in case he wants to continue his works from beyond the grave. Seems rather odd to me. A well-worn pencil might not look quite as ludicrous, but I can’t imagine what Thoreau would make of a bright-yellow highlighter pen. Doesn’t really fit his “simplify” theme.
Back home, the cat has decided that after 3+ months, he can no longer tolerate being limited to our shoveled paths, and has started to venture cross-country.
In January, we took our Christmas tree down shortly before all the snow started. We placed it lying down in the backyard in the spot where we burn brush each spring. We figured that when spring came and we had just enough snow left on the ground for optimal fire safety, we’d know exactly where to stack the rest of our brush, rather than burn off a new section of grass.
Or at least, that was the theory. Our snow is diminishing enough that we would like to burn fairly soon. But there is absolutely no sign of the Christmas tree.
E spent about 10 minutes today, poking around the yard with some sticks, trying to find it. It’s still missing. Hard to believe it’s nearly April, and we still have enough snow on the ground to be hiding an entire Christmas tree.