The End of the Season

With April and warmth approaching,
this looks like the final ski of the season.

I was off showing our Picture-Fix software at the Beneath The Sea show in the New Jersey Meadowlands when Rochester got its late March winter blanket.  Though tired, I was thinking that getting home late Sunday would allow me to ski on Monday before the snow was all gone.  I would deal with what was left in the driveway and then head out the back for some fun and exercise.

However, there was more fun-with-snow to be had.  The driving snowstorm I encountered during almost the entire south to north journey through Pennsylvania and on past Binghamton made me concentrate so hard that I was unable to get sleepy. I drove the 330 miles from Secaucus to my house with one stop, pretty wired the entire way. I didn’t even yawn until I got to downtown Rochester, about 10 miles from my goal.

With the emergency lights from the crash on the other side of the highway making the falling snow flicker alternately red, yellow and blue, I accelerated up the hill at the Penn-NY border, dodging the first bus stuck in the center lane on the left, and skirting the second partly on the shoulder on the right since it had come to a stop across 2 of the 3 northbound lanes.  Amazing how the traffic thinned out after that.

My chewing gum remained unopened, and I purchased no coffee…I relied on a loud soundtrack to augment my concentration in keeping sleep at a distance. My only regret is that I did not have “We Gotta Get Out Of This Place” queued up as I left the stranded busses in the distance.

Well past the snow, I took a quick break at the NYS Thruway rest area just beyond Syracuse. As I emerged from my car, a lady called out to me, “That wasn’t much fun, was it?”

“Scranton?” I asked, puzzled by how she would know. “That was horrible.”

I looked back and knew. Though the Thruway was completely dry, a thick coating of ice covered the entire grill of my car. I chipped the hitchhiking ice from my headlights and went inside to reward myself with a milkshake.

The next day, though tired from the drive, I decided I'd better get out on the snow since I'd likely not have another chance until November.  A few yards past my back gate, I heard the noisy bird and decided I'd go back and get the camera.

Is that him?

The woodpecker had found a fine dining location.  The bright sun had warmed the dead limb on the silver maple so that the ants were active.   My pileated pal was happily busy, so I was able to approach below without making him decide I was too close for comfort.

There he is.

Yakkin'

 The pileated woodpecker has a raucous call.  I wondered why any bird would call so much attention to itself until I remembered, "This is a WOODPECKER."  Their dietary habits announce their presence far and wide, so what's the difference if their call is loud?  I've read that they make these noises to establish their territory.  Worked perfectly with me.  I stayed out of the tree.

The selected tree providing color against the sky.
If silver maples have red buds, then red maples...

"You looking at me?"

Part of the meal in the beak.

Gravity assisted meal insertion.

Gulp!

I moved on, leaving my friend to finish his meal and pick up the check.

Not usually necessary in Rochester, NY,
sunglasses enhanced the snowy visuals.

The varying reflections of the sun off the snow
provided a topographical appreciation of the sand trap.

An indication that the geese had preceded me.

Positive proof of aforementioned fowl.

Odd peeling bark and fruit balls adorn the sycamore.

Obviously a fan, the sycamore has decorated itself
in honor of March Madness. 

Climb up, slide down.
I miss playground.

OK, I think this is quite enough with the snow already.  Yes, I have enjoyed the skiing, but enough is enough.  Time to move on to flower pictures and summer birds.   And cars with the rag top down.

Thank you, aconites!
Tulips, let's get with the program.