I know that spring is well and truly on the way when a puddle forms just inside our back gate going out to the carport. All winter long the snow piles up, it sits there cold and frozen, shovelled against the lee side of the fence. The pile becomes a place for the dog to bury his rawhide bones.Then, come March or April, I have this illusion that the snow pile will disappear with spring warmth; that the ice melt will simply soak into the ground to nourish the flowerbeds and grass nearby. I am convinced that spring growth is just waiting for longer days, warmer nights and a bit of moisture to burst into glorious colors and intoxicating scents.
No such luck. The ground is still frozen solid under the snow pile, and the guy who installed the pavers near the back gate set them low to make sure the gate would swing freely (at least in theory, because the gate constantly scrapes the blocks due to frost heave).
So there it is, a melting snow pile with nowhere for the melt water to go except the low spot at the back gate.
The water sits on top of the pavers, ices up overnight, becomes slushy and dirty during the warm days, freezes again at night. It becomes a combination pond/ice rink/slushie/slipping hazard conveniently placed on the way out to the car instead of much needed moisture for the grass and flowers.
It does not nourish the colors and scents of spring, unless the scents of spring are decaying leaves and slimy rawhide bones.
The ground thaws slowly – too slowly for my liking – until that one special day when the ice dam, or whatever it is that traps the water in that spot, finally breaks. Only then does the temporary rink/pond drain away, sometimes in a matter of minutes. It must be magic – the Magic of Spring.