When I started to write this column, it was the first day of spring. By the time you read it, I hope the world outdoors has grown spring-like, even if just a little — shoots of skunk cabbage, a touch of warmth in the air perhaps. Looking through my window now, snow remains in patches, but there is more branch-snapping stuff on the way and the mercury is not much above freezing. Last month, when spring was hoped for but not expected, it was the first in our series of March storms that sent me to Ragged Mountain.
I had decided ahead of time that I’d go hiking, probably somewhere north or west of home. But the nor’easter came through, and though it brought just wind and icy rain to most of Connecticut, I heard that Litchfield County and New York were buried. That would be especially true of higher elevations. So I looked eastward for a hike, where the hills are modest.