Thursday, March 24, 2016

neither hail nor sleet

neither hail nor sleet
can stop the yellow daffodils
lighting up spring snow

Late March, time for our usual last fling of winter, with its bud-killing frost. In the morning, a light rain soon turns to ice pellets bouncing on the green grass. The small stones in the pathway to the gate are covered with a layer of white pea-sized hail.

Driving to town at noon, the hail turns to sleet. Wiggly tire tracks waver up the first long hill. A little further, a white car sits in the gully, which is filled with snow perforated by green tufts, as if someone decided to park there. No one is in the car. I suddenly realize that I dashed out in a raincoat and clogs, not real smart if I end up in a ditch. What was I thinking, that it was Spring?
          Ten minutes later, sleet turns to big splotchy snow globs splatting the windshield like huge insects. In another hour, the show moves on south, drawing a gray curtain behind it. 
          In art class I greet a friend who spends every winter in New Mexico. She just got back last night. "Great timing," I joke. "Welcome back to the Midwest!"

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