I'm decidedly of two minds about the weather today.
On the one hand, I'm personally offended to have snow in March. It had been warmish and increasingly vernal for several weeks. Flowers were starting to push their way out of the ground, birds could be heard scrabbling on the roof in the morning. Winter seemed in full retreat.
On the other hand, it was the most curious snowfall. Early this morning, when I dragged myself out of bed like a marionette with tangled strings and looked out our bedroom window, the whole world was coated with a marshmallowy dollop of white.
Between an inch and two inches of snow on every roof, on every lawn, on every branch - right down to the tiniest of new buds - but not a speck of snow on the streets and not a hint of it on the sidewalk.
No shoveling to be done. No extra care to be taken behind the wheel.
What's more, by some odd trick of the storm, every street sign and every billboard, every stop sign and every shop sign, every school crossing and every mile marker, was covered in snow as though each had been frosted with a cake spreader. No vertical space could be seen without its message obscured by a perfect coating of snow.
Tabula rasa. Everything ineffable (or, at least, uneffed).
Still. Goddamned March, isn't it? Enough already.
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