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!"