I was in the yard yesterday, pulling dead stuff out of the flowerbeds in the bright sunshine. I used sunscreen. It wasn’t hot enough out to make it feel as if the sunscreen were worthwhile (and yes, I do know that 'heat' has nothing to do with it but I'm guessing you know what I mean.) The grape hyacinths are going bananas in the front flowerbeds. Our trees are the last ones on the block to show signs of budding, but good gods they’re budding with all they’ve got now. I worked pretty hard yesterday in the dusty, chill air.
It was a perfect day.
It was snowing when I woke up today. 34 degrees outside and big globs of snow absolutely throwing themselves at the ground with the enthusiasm of a small child that cavorts through autumn leaves. But there were no autumn leaves today. The snow seemed to be waking up just as I was… clotted and foggy first thing, more organized and uniform after breakfast. At my job, there is a window through which I can monitor the outside weather situations. It always showed me heavy, spring snow for this morning. Every time I looked, more snow. It was energizing, euphoric, “I can’t believe it’s snowing” snow. For hours this has continued.
It is a perfect day.
Now, it’s sunny out. The streets are dry and the inch or so of snowy accumulation is flopping from tree branches in big, lusty piles. In a few more hours there will be no more trace of this morning’s snow than there is of last week’s. Tomorrow the air will be warm and soft, and the growing things of the earth will be getting their growth spurts on.
It will be a perfect day.