Spring is coming on slow this year, if she is coming at all.
The trail is still solid, skiing is still good, and the snow is deeper than it has been all season.
Haven't even smelled that earthy scent on the wind yet.
The only signs are the swirling flocks of snow-buntings along the highway
and the birches from a distance have taken on the deep pink as they do with the thaw.
It was warm enough to search for chocolate eggs in the snow and feast around the campfire.
We had our Easter fire, the final bonfire of the season.
Since then it has dropped once more. The syruping crew has arrived, we are ready and waiting and biding our time, trying not to burn all the firewood while we wait.