We had a little more snow in the night, but it didn't last. The thermometer is reading 40 degrees and there's a cold mist going on - not a day for a cookout. We're watching the grass greening up, though, and things are getting washed down a bit from the winter grunge.

I had a brief e-mail from Evelyn Richer this morning to let us know the loons are back. She didn't say, but I think this might be early for them to return. I'll see if she has kept records and let you know.

This creature was spotted on the shore near the Rossi home recently. Obviously happy there's no more ice and snow.

Our middle son, Bob, came to camp from St. Johnsbury yesterday to do some lawn work. He was surprised to find an inch or so of snow on the ground, and quickly gave up any thoughts of spring cleanup. He checked under camp and found the neatly piled wood left there last fall has tumbled over. We guess it was a result of the high water last fall after camp was closed, or it could have been just frost. Things do get moved around.

I was trying to channel water away from our lawn yesterday afternoon. There is a place on the lawn above our little shed we call the "tractor garage" where water was bubbling up like a spring. It breaks through every year, but there seemed to be more water than usual this year. I dug a channel to carry it towards the woods, but in doing so, broke through into another underground channel with water rushing through under the lawn. I gave up at that point. There are numerous springs on the hillside above us and when the water table rises, the ground gets super soggy. I'm sure there's a scientific name for that, but we simply call it swamp. Some of our woods is honeycombed with pockets of water, and it appears and disappears, making brooks that drop out of sight in spots only to bubble up yards below at the root of some alder or in a mass of osier. Walking there is ill advised unless one is wearing tall boots.

Another sign of spring at our house is that our cat, Woody, spends much more time outside, especially in the evening. His "kitty door" is now activated so he can come and go as he pleases, except when we enforce a curfew. It works this way: if he comes in before we go to bed, we simply lock the door so he can't go back out during the night. If he isn't in, we fix the door so he can get in but it won't allow him to go back out. With other animals moving about more now the weather's warming, we worry about his safety.

Woody, like most cats, is a hunter, and he often brings his "friends" inside to meet us. Quite often, the mouse, vole, squirrel or young rabbit is unhurt. Woody comes up from the basement and announces his present with a distinctive yowl, thus opening his mouth, which of course gives his quarry a chance to escape. As soon as we hear that yowl, we jump into action. We're out of our chairs, grab gloves kept by the wood stove and ready for the chase. Woody helps, of course, loving the excitement of another hunt. Sometimes we close Woody in another room so we can then herd whatever frightened little animal it is out the door; other times, Fred or I will be able to corner the poor thing with our gloves on and gently release it back outside, unhurt. Last night it was a little field mouse and Woody was proud as could be, but wasn't happy when he realized it was gone and wanted to go right back outside, I suppose to hunt it down again. Curfew was enforced.