Thankful that the storm has finally passed, I pull on some boots and walk past the Sweet Gum forest down to the small stream that follows the edge of the meadow. I hear it rushing before I arrive at its banks. From the vantage point of an old berm, I see the swollen stream racing by, bringing with it leaves and sticks. The temperature has risen to above 60 degrees and the ground has mostly thawed as my boots sink and squish with each step. The dark grey clouds above are racing and the wind is howling, sure to bring the arctic cold back in the days ahead.