It’s Saturday, March 14. I’m having a normal day. Coffee. Scrolling through posts on my phone — first in one app, then another, then again in the first app as if I hadn’t just done that very thing minutes before. It is the first normal day after so many not normal days that it feels decadent, like chocolate ganache in the form of minutes. The hours stretch out before me as if to tease me,…
I opened the cap, intending to take a sip, and watched as in the span of about five seconds I was treated to some science that felt like magic in my hand.
It snowed Saturday morning and stayed on the ground for a few hours. Long enough for us to terrorize the neighborhood with a multi-street snowball fight (involving only ourselves). I was the conscientious objector/documenter, of course. Here’s a slideshow of the carnage.
We got walloped the morning of Jan. 22. The forecasts had all predicted the white stuff would gear up after noon, but it started in earnest around 7 a.m. and blanketed the city with upwards of 8 inches some places. My commute to work was treacherous, and took me more than an hour. Part of that hour was spent idle on Rosa Parks, stuck behind a procession of cars and trucks that couldn’t get up…
Normally I try not to get too upset at winter for doing its thing. Just let it run its course. It’ll lose steam and get gone and we’ll see it creeping back in later in the year after it’s run off to have its affairs elsewhere. Hell, I even appreciate that winter gives me a few months of long sleeves, layers, tights, coats and scarves. But this year… You gotta go, dude. Get.
… and winter is still holding on a bit. We have earned spring, though. Like it’s some lusted-after prize won in a back-alley fight club match, we’ll gladly accept it even though we are bruised and bloodied. And sneezing. Because this spring is murder on the head.
They ended, of course. But it sure didn’t seem like they were going to. [Project 365]
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