Wow. Things are busting loose all over.
Running along Amity Creek last night, I saw that the river was flowing wholesale over the ice and down the drops. Not just a trickle, but a full-fledged torrent running like pale root beer atop the milky ice below, racing down the long slides in a rush to get to Lake Superior. I had to stop to watch and listen.
When I got to the last bridge at the top, I saw a young man standing atop the bridge, staring upstream where the Amity danced and twisted down a series of ledges and around ice-capped rocks.
“It’s so beautiful, the rapids,” he said.
His mountain bike was leaning against the stone bridge, waiting for the rest of his ride.
John Chalstrom, of Chalstrom’s Bait and Tackle, is training for another marathon. I talked to him on the phone the other day. He told me about a recent run in the balmy weather.
“I was running in shorts and a t-shirt,” he said, “and sweat was running into my eyes.”
He said it with an air of disbelief. It has been a long time.
My wife tells me everyone at work is happy, upbeat. It’s the sunshine, the weather, this great lifting of winter’s weight from our shoulders, she says.
By last Sunday, Frank Nicoletti had already counted 114 bald eagles in the West Skyline Hawk Count this season, 93 alone on Sunday. The migration is on.
At the mouth of the Lester River last night, I looked up and saw a merganser flying over the ice that still gripped Lake Superior. He twisted one way, then the other, like a fighter jet, looking, looking. I hope he found what he was searching for.
Solitary gloves and mittens, long ago lost by unfortunate kids on their way home from school during winter’s grip, appear on top of snowbanks now. When the snow finally recedes from beneath them, homeowners will know it’s time to pluck them from the wet and gritty grass and deposit them in the trash. Closure.
We will likely get cool again. Snow will probably fall another time or two. Temporary setbacks.
The Amity promised me that last night.