A crack in the back of winter: a creak in the streak of storms.
Spring might come. Ice Mountain, the enormous pile of frozen snow in my backyard, was more like Slush Mountain today. A giant slushie: flavored with street salt, sand, and soot.
I put on snowshoes and clomped around the house, raking roofs for maybe the last time this winter. Maybe the snowstorms are over and we'll have rain instead. The rain will melt the mounds of ice and expose the sodden lawns and gardens. Maybe.
Or maybe we'll have another month of arctic air, sideways snow, and icicles. Maybe I'll be scooping fluffy snow and icy slurries until April.
At least we had today: slushie harbinger of spring.
Spring might come. Ice Mountain, the enormous pile of frozen snow in my backyard, was more like Slush Mountain today. A giant slushie: flavored with street salt, sand, and soot.
I put on snowshoes and clomped around the house, raking roofs for maybe the last time this winter. Maybe the snowstorms are over and we'll have rain instead. The rain will melt the mounds of ice and expose the sodden lawns and gardens. Maybe.
Or maybe we'll have another month of arctic air, sideways snow, and icicles. Maybe I'll be scooping fluffy snow and icy slurries until April.
At least we had today: slushie harbinger of spring.
