After two days of snow, 17.2 inches in all, I'm told, the storms are over and spring has resumed. Over by the Methodist church there are hundreds of confused robins, looking for promised worms and finding only street pavement or banks of white stuff. Gary sometimes puts out hamburger for them to help them through, a sort of emergency relief for the avian set, but that is getting pricey these days. Oh well, there are robins a-plenty in this country. I see them everywhere I travel. When I camped above the tree line in the Colorado Rockies, there were no birds except for robins on the mountaintops.
I spent two snowbound days working on the itinerary for my summer tour. I found plenty of campgrounds wherever I plan to go but I am choosy, looking for those with beaches on small lakes. I figured distances between towns so I could make performances on time. I ordered a pop up cabana so I can change into dressy clothes and put on makeup in my own private loo. I began the process of finding writing outlets for travel articles. Now I am researching better cameras so I can do a photographic essay to go with winter travelogs at Wisconsin libraries. It isn't only the performances that make my trips profitable.
I've emerged with vigor, walking three or four miles a day. Now is the time to take off the winter weight, to shape up for hiking season. In another month, the spring mud will be gone and I will hit the trails, leaving Seymour's sidewalks behind. Vitamin D rains down on me.
"Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose."
I sing the "Song of the Open Road" with Walt Whitman. I'm ready to go.
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