Expecting Spring.

The fields outlying Northampton ought to be deep in snow this time of year, anticipating the annual floods which accompany the Spring thaw.

But they’re not.  They’re silt-laden from the waters of Irene, cracked and dried in the subsequent sun, and anticipating nothing beyond longer days and warmer temperatures:

The Holyoke Range recedes into the east, with Mount Hitchcock appearing as the high point, though it’s not quite that.

With nothing to melt in these parts and scant snow cover up north, I’m not anticipating much of a Spring Surge on the Connecticut river, the once-proud benefactor of the fertile farmlands of its namesake valley.

Again, I wonder what this is all coming to.  Change happens whether we participate in it or not – I’m not lamenting the change, but rather wondering if we’re causing it to happen faster than the rest of Nature can adapt.

This is a bit more of Elliot’s handiwork, though the foreground fodder was barely worth noticing.