Off the boardwalk of the Sedge Meadow Trail, skunk cabbage was unfuling its leaves.
I'm waiting for something new to happen with the Old Oak and its fungi.
The roar of the Wappingers Creek swollen by the recent rains could be heard from the Gifford House.
Accompanying winds had scattered some dead wood across the trails - but nothing that would break a sweat.
High and dry and just about free of snow was the foot bridge by the "Appendix".
Something tiny darted over to the other shore. I sat and watched. I tiny bird with a tinier tail held vertically looked across at me and bobbed up and down. A winter wren.
A larger stonefly - the female - allowed me to pluck it from the air.
Wood grain of a recently sawn stumplet stopped me for a few moments.
The road to the Fern Glen should be clear if we get a few more days like this.
