March 2003

March is the 'trashiest' of months in the sense that winter debris is everywhere. Litter is steadily revealed by the melting of the snow and ice.  The wooded areas along the river remind me of my son's room (mine too). Stalks are broken and lying at chaotic angles - leaves are gray and ragged.  Bottles are strewn here and there, having been floated and dumped over the Raritan's banks during successive winter storms. 

Looking at the ground, though, I see the small new leaves. In a few weeks there will be a green blush over the entire area and by May, I'll no longer be able to walk with the ease I do now. 

Crow fantasy