On his walk to work yesterday morning, Chris and I spotted a tree covered with little red nubs that we though were buds. Sadly, they were just dead fruit left over from last year.
But it got into the mid-50s yesterday afternoon (for my Southern reader, this time of year in Vermont that's basically a heatwave), so I walked down to the lake looking for signs of spring. What I mostly found were the last vestiges of winter.
There's still snow in the Adirondacks:
There's even a little bit of snow on the shore of the lake:
And this rude bird acted as if he didn't even see me:
After being snubbed by that gull I walked up to
Church Street, where if the freaks are any indication, spring has definitely sprung, or puked (I actually thought I saw Joaquin Phoenix, but it was just some scarily hirsute UVM hippie, which brings me to this question: Which came first, Joaquin Phoenix or the scarily hirsute UVM hippies?).
But it was there among the weirdos, college students, college-student weirdos, and others (mostly babies) flocking to our little pedestrian mall to enjoy the sun that I finally found what I was looking for: Buskers! Spring is here!
