Imagine. A snowstorm. Yesterday. Right here in my backyard and beyond.
No matter how hard I’ve tried to stay ahead of the white stuff all winter, it’s followed my steps. I had temporarily moved south of the border for a few months, certain that I’d evade the big chill up north. Instead, it followed me silently to a place that hardly sees snow – while here barely a spot of it fell. Then, just when I thought it was safe to return, safe enough to leave my boots behind, safe to store my down jacket and safe (and warm) enough to wear sandals, the snow-falling angels sought me out yet again.
In one fell swoop, the magnolia buds melted away, the gloriously blossoming tulips wilted, huge branches with leaves already breaking free fell onto sloppy sidewalks and overgrown blades of grass all but disappeared under a heavy white blanket.
Just two days before, while out for a walk in the park, I’d seen telltale signs of spring: kids in after-school soccer class, racing around the playground, guys warming up for a game of pick-up baseball, handymen working on the tennis courts. I saw robins picking at worms, squirrels hurtling about, dogs racing after a flying Frisbee.
Better yet: a couple of days earlier, I’d been out with friends – and we’d gone for ice cream!!
I won’t automatically attribute it to global warming (perhaps the past weeks of warmth and sunshine were premature), but it knocks me off balance, makes me ponder whether it’s really necessary to leave the house at all, and really… all I want to do is curl up with Three Cups of Tea and a blanket till it all melts away.
Healing Pilgrim 