Of ice and eagles

I should have known there was a reason no one had parallel-parked in that last remaining space near my building, but I pulled in anyway and then I tried to straighten my car out and discovered the problem: ice! I spun my brand-new Christmas tires briefly before deciding that my car was straight enough, and then I left it there in hopes that the ice will melt before I leave for home. With a full day's work ahead of me and temperatures rising into the 50s this afternoon, I'm hopeful.

Stopped by the Devola Dam yesterday afternoon and this morning to see bald eagles, which are present in abundance. A member of the local birding group reported seeing more than 40 eagles along a stretch of the Muskingum River over the weekend, including many juveniles congregating below the dam. And indeed there they were, a scrum of scraggly adolescents hanging out on the ice and occasionally taking wing, but the position of the sun made photos difficult so I just enjoyed the spectacle. The Muskingum is still icy in many places and my own little creek is totally iced over, but that will change soon.

February already! I'm collecting the first set of major papers in one class tomorrow and giving the first exam of the semester in another next Monday. So far classes are moving along pretty well, although my Place class let me know yesterday that they found Wendell Berry impenetrable (just one poem!), and about half of my American Lit Survey students failed to show up to discuss "Daisy Miller." If Daisy were an Instagram influencer trying to establish a personal identity amidst an unforgiving and judgmental society, my students would have plenty to say, but all we have to work with are words filtered through the perceptions of clueless observers, and where's the fun in that? 

This week I've been recommending to everyone Kate DiCamillo's YA novel The Magician's Elephant, which I devoured in about an hour of luminous delight. The impossible plot is conveyed with striking realism, and in the end a snowfall becomes a sign of hope and a promise of comfort. I accept every single impossible thing that happens in the novel, including the snow, but when I look out my window later on, I hope to see some melting ice so I can get my car moving. If the thaw doesn't come soon, someone's going to have to get out and push.