The melting of the snow offers a reverse review of the winter, like scrolling slowly down through a blog — a gray & granular roll-call of storms, dotted with patches of yellow. The snow gets dirtier & dirtier until the point where the ground starts to appear, when it looks white again by contrast. Even before the first wild onions, the bare brown earth is infinitely more complex than anything you can cover it with. I mean, where did these sticks come from all over the yard? Who threw them? The honeybees start flying before the last snow melts, drinking from sapsucker wells & other fresh wounds. Soon only the white buildings will remind us of winter’s blankness — tombs for the Asian ladybug beetles that infiltrated them by the thousands last Fall, thinking they were cool chalk cliffs, & died of thirst. The south-facing windows have been stained with the grime of beetle feet. Vacuum cleaners howl. Outside, three doves try to out-mourn each other, as if this disreputable yard were another Jerusalem.
Dave Bonta (bio) crowd-sources his problems by following his gut, which he shares with 100 trillion of his closest microbial friends — a close-knit, symbiotic community comprising several thousand species of bacteria, fungi, and protozoa. In a similarly collaborative fashion, all of Dave’s writing is available for reuse and creative remix under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License. For attribution in printed material, his name (Dave Bonta) will suffice, but for web use, please link back to the original. Contact him for permission to waive the “share alike” provision (e.g. for use in a conventionally copyrighted work).