Snowing. Hard.

I'm a night owl, and with nights shorter and shorter here anyway at the moment, I'm really finding it hard to go to bed... or stay there.

But I wish I had last night. Because the sun is coming up, and it is snowing. Not just a little dusting, either. It's coming down hard, and there's already an inch on the deck railing.

Now, I love snow. Love love love it.

But. It has been spring here for weeks. Early, yes. But temps in the 60s for awhile, then in the 50s. The leaves appeared on the trees last week as they always do: All of a sudden. Drive to town in the morning, all is grey and brown and bare. Drive back home in the late afternoon, and everything is tinged green with new buds.

I'm sure the day will bring a bit of warmth that will turn this back into the dreary rain that has been so depressing all weekend. (Again, don't get me wrong. We need the water. I just would rather it rain during the week, and maybe take a break every few hours. But that's a bit demanding, isn't it?)

Anyway, the redpolls are attacking the feeders as if there's no tomorrow, and the juncoes have come back. (Lovely little grey things.)

I'm going to bed. I think. In awhile.

Today I found some ancient air-dry modeling clay, a terracotta color. After much adding of water and smearing of mud, I got it into workable form and made a snapping turtle. I'm in a swap for hand-made turtles. I don't know if I'll send this one or not: He's pretty rough. But the more I look at him, the more real he gets.

No turtles in Alaska. I miss them. And they, in turn, make me miss my mom. She died of a stroke when I was 19 and she was 41. I'm almost five years older than she ever got to be.

We used to love to go "riding around" when I was growing up in Georgia. That meant driving aimlessly on the back roads and dirt roads, looking at whatever there was to see. Whenever we came across a turtle sunning itself in the middle of the road, Mama would slam on the brakes, come to a screeching halt in the middle of the road, and get all excited. "DeeDee, get out and get that turtle!"

So I'd get out, pick up the poor turtle, and put it in the back floorboard of the car. Mama was convinced that all turtles lived near water, so we might drive for a couple of miles to find a creek or pond. How many dozens of turtles were forevermore confused and disoriented after these "rescues," I wonder?

The thing is, she was rescuing them... from certain death, smashed flat on the pavement by mean people or people driving too fast to see them.

These were snapping turtles, usually, and the old folks always said if one ever bit you, it would chomp down and hold on until it thundered. Needless to say, the turtles made me a little nervous. And I remember more than once having one crawl under the front seat and up near my legs. Eek! Another slamming on of brakes, and this time all the doors flying open and all three of us (Mama, Karen and me) tumbling out of the car. Somehow, it was always my job to get the turtle.

I sure miss my mom. I'm surprised every single year when Mother's Day comes and it hurts. It has been 26 years, and I still feel orphaned. Having no children of my own (something I usually know is a good thing) makes it harder.

But, it's good to remember and laugh.

And the sky is now a rosy pink, and the snow really is pretty.

But I'm going to bed.