For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; the flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of the birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land.
- Old Testament, Song of Solomon, 2:11, 12
March is not leaving Illinois without a fight. It lingers like a gasping battler, nearly spent but holding on for that last punch. There’s a sheet of thin ice on Crystal Lake and the geese and ducks congregate at the edge to gossip about warm thermals and faraway fields. Jan and I walked along the lakefront snapping pictures, hands stuffed in our pockets to keep warm. I worked all morning on two stories I’m writing, one of which will make the rounds of mainstream publishers when it’s completed in a year. The air was cold but refreshing and I returned to my den to work again on those stories, lost in another time and fighting battles I know I can win. I thought to share some of the photos I took today as an interlude on the digital highway.