5. Sometimes there are dry places on the ground around my house.
4. Sometimes puddles the size and depth of small lakes form in the space of about a half an hour in my driveway.
3. The creek I can hear from inside the house is suddenly in a very busy hurry and is telling the woods and rocks that there is a lot to do.
2. The window up here in my office is open again - and it's time to sleep with the windows in the bedroom open a little.
1. The Great Husband and his co-conspiratorial brother are in the living room on a Saturday morning once again, discussing ways to use the heavy machinery for what, to the untrained ear, sounds like a lot of purposeful and efficient labor. I, however, know that this is a prelude to the upcoming months of frustrating, persistent, exuberant, exasperating, and eventually successful spring and summer of mud, sweat, rain soakings, machine fluids of various viscosities (and olfactory offensiveness), gallons of iced tea and "what's for lunch, woman?" ... and maybe, just maybe, some logging and some house-leveling to be accomplished at last.
There's this sort of thing too, of course.But the conversation is a dead giveaway.