Day Three above Freezing

The strange dripping noise continues, without ceasing.  What is this swampland my world has become?  Should I trade in my snow shovel for a canoe?

The warmth is amazing.  Pale faces turn toward the sun, like flowers at first bloom.  The weather sorcerers warn that the annual freeze has not yet fully concluded, but my heart cannot help hoping.

For now, my only fear is that sweet Aubrey will be washed away in the torrential rushing waters where my driveway formerly existed.