Boots on the Ground

(Photo Credit: Moose, on her iPhone, 2/24/10)

This isn't a post, really. It's more of a Post-It. A little bit of a love note, just to let you all know that we are thinking of you here in Roxie's World. The photo is from a walk Moose took yesterday out on the trail. She hadn't been out there in several weeks, because the snow was too icky for skiing and too high for walking, but yesterday was warm and sunny and she was feeling restless and bold, so she ventured down to see whether conditions were go for a bit of a stroll. Happily, they were. She made it all the way to Piney Branch without too much trouble, except for one nasty spot near where some road work is being done. She wandered off the trail at that point and ended up stepping into mud that nearly covered her shoes (see above), but instead of feeling annoyed she was delighted -- delighted that her feet were in three inches of mud rather than three feet of snow, blissed out by the smell of the rich brown goo and the sound of the water roaring in the creek -- because of course it all means that spring is edging its way toward Roxie's World, whatever the weather report for the next 24 hours may say.

Which of course made her think of Winnie-the-Pooh's ecstatic celebration of early spring, his poem "Noise," from The House at Pooh Corner. Surely you know it:

Oh, the butterflies are flying,
Now the winter days are dying,
And the primroses are trying
To be seen.

And the turtle-doves are cooing,
And the woods are up and doing,
For the violets are blue-ing
In the green.

Oh, the honey-bees are gumming,
On their little wings, and humming
That the summer, which is coming,
Will be fun.

And the cows are almost cooing,
And the turtle-doves are mooing,
Which is why a Pooh is poohing
In the sun.

For the spring is really springing;
You can see a skylark singing,
And the blue-bells, which are ringing,
Can be heard.

And the cuckoo isn't cooing,
But he's cucking and he's ooing,
And a Pooh is simply poohing
Like a bird.

Moose has loved this poem for darn near half a century, and, despite that PhD in English, she still has no idea what Pooh's "poohing in the sun" might mean, but, well, if you can do it in the sun she is all for it, and she hopes that you are, too. Peace out, silly old bears. May spring find you soon, wherever you are.