Tempting fate and tempests

The snow packed down by snowshoes was the last to melt and fade into the yellow-gray lawn north of the house we rent. Deep pockets of snow are likely yet found 50 miles (80 kilometers) or so northwest, where the National Weather Service station near Gaylord recorded snowfall this year exceeding any other on the books. The season of renewal is premature at this latitude and everyone is looking around with justified suspicion. Not to say they fail to appreciate a day of sunshine and relative warmth. But there pervades a sense that discussing it too much or directly will jinx it. Tempting fate I cut my hair close. It is one of several ritual acts to ready myself. Waking slightly earlier; stretching more often; consuming more water and calories. A busy season is approaching but it’s not here yet—perhaps time’s left to prepare. A robin has been running around the yard in front of the aforementioned house, having returned from wherever robins winter. The American Robin should remain ...