I put the snow shovels away yesterday. The last time I did that we were hit with 5 inches overnight so this time I waited until the grass turned green. Even now I can see patches of snow on the far side of the hayfield under the trees. My world has been black and white for so long now that at one point I wouldn't have been surprised to see Bette Davis smoking on the deck. But I've dared to put some pansies out this morning and spring-loving guests who enjoy the double dose of daffs are enjoying seeing it all happen again here after their own early spring is over. Sap buckets are hanging on trees all over town and one guest this weekend is here on a beekeeping course (that sounds springish, doesn't it?). So, I guess we made it. The Thursday singing club resumed in the dining room and to our joint delight we learned that one of us took up belly dancing to stave off cabin fever. What with demonstrations of her art (which involved hoiking up many layers of flannel, not a problem encountered in many harems, I reckon); marveling over the felted toys based on a Japanese anime film made by another; admiring sweaters, coats, blankets and rugs knitted, hooked and spun through blizzard after blizzard; discussing the dozens of books read (I kept quiet about watching 6 years' of MadMen re-runs in 2 weeks. That was after the last storm and I was traumatized); we didn't have much time left for singing but did end with "O Spirit Sweet of Summertime' which put us all in a cheerful mood and sent them out my front door and across the lawn under a starry sky, serenaded by the peepers out on the marsh who, no doubt, had their own tales to tell about winter under the snow.