When trees fall in the forest, plenty land upon the roads

Here comes the seasonal thaw: when winter unlocks and pours into spring.

For some of us house dwellers, spring is reduced to words in poems you once read as a kid; "Flower, bloom, warmth, sun," all those English sonnets on heather and yore, sweet Canterbury flavored words.

Sadly, these same house dwellers satisfy themselves when Channel 5 shows them two minutes of tulips. Rarely will they go outside to see what spring really is.

Too bad for them. For spring will slap your face like a flying icicle if you go up the Hamma Hamma right now.

Thar she blew

Let's start with an army of dead, downed tr...