Vie

Winter and spring are going at it tooth-and-nail outside. Warm air pushing its way into winter's stronghold has kicked up a wind that's nudging this old house around and making me worry that something's going to fly off. I've already been outside once, in a charming ensemble of bathrobe and winter boots--tres chic!--to see if I'm missing anything. You know, like shingles, gutters, my dish, or the upstairs.Every gust makes the windows creak. Upstairs in the kid's room the floors actually whistle when the wind rushes through the bones of our 150-year-old house.

The skies are clear, a rich blue. When I went out, nothing froze and fell off. The wind, for all its Clash-of-the-Titans rage, was close to warm. It's been a long winter, all the New England charm of it gone as the accumulation rose up over 30, 40, 50 inches total. Now spring, armor-clad and singing Wagnerian arias, is taking the frost giant to task. It may be too early for her--this is New England after all, when snow in mid-April is greeted with a resigned, "It figures." But right now, spear in hand and packing a Valhalla-or-bust attitude, she's in it for us.

Go, spring. Kick winter's ass.