What's that brown stuff behind this meadowlark? Oh that's right, it's snowless dirt, just after Christmas. How I wish the white stuff left by the recent storm would disappear. Snow might be marvelous when it is falling or recently fallen, but soon it turns ugly. Most of all I resent any restriction to my walking and cycling lifestyles.
The recent four inches of white powder is taking a while to melt off and I was getting cabin fever, so Coffee Girl and I walked to town. It was not fun. Nobody in this town bothers to scoop off their sidewalk. So we struggled with ice or packed snow the whole way. Every time a raven flew overhead, Coffee Girl would lunge at it and nearly pull me over onto the hard surface. The hatred of the Easterner for old snow (read, ice) came back with every step.
Finally we made it to the coffee shop, where we sat outside and watched drops melt off the awning and fall onto the sidewalk with a loud splash. They were backlit by a bright Southwestern sun. The drops seemed like pyroclastic, melting glass with a high lead content. I felt so relaxed and content just to sit there watching it, while nibbling on the banana bread, sipping the hot coffee, and smiling at the slow-drip process driven by the sun.
Perhaps this explains why a human snowbird would spend his winter in a town like this. Most snowbirds head to places where they can sit around in wide-body, folding chairs, while wearing only shorts. There is a lot to be said for being occasionally delighted -- and then quickly annoyed -- by snow that disappears pretty fast. It took me years to understand that a winter of 70 F degree days is not just boring, but it fails to refresh your appetite for summer.
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