A Waterhouse goddess of water, from whom all goodness flows. I could see myself in this part-time job, with a lofty-sounding title, like "Goddess of Water, Princess of all things Wet, Duchess of Rain, Deziden of Lands Oft-covered with Ice and Snow."
It's January, and it an incredible 45 degrees here, Even for a January thaw that's an incredibly mild temperature. I saw a small boy tapping a toe tentatively into the water running through a culvert by the driveway as he got off the school bus yesterday and it brought me immediately to thoughts of spring pass and myself as that small child testing the waters with a teasing toe.
As an adult, though, I've been trying to wrap my head around what these wonderful temperatures might have in store for us for the gardening year. Do they signify late snow of the wet and heavy sort with tulips in full flower sugared in snow crystals? Or will we have our snow in a series of 1/2" dustings, gone like morning dew? And will we have enough snow to feed the aquifer that runs clear, and clean deep underground bubbling up in an artesian spring north of town?
The fury of Niagara Falls is all too typical of the power, strength, and might of water.
The reflecting waters of a pool at Olbrich Botanical Gardens.
So instead of ice, sleet, snow, rime, blizzards, freezing drizzle; we have gentle rains, cool running water in gullies half frozen, soggy looking lakes.
Will our weather be the like the water's fury at Niagara Falls or the placid calmness of the reflecting pool?
