A few weeks back, we had a couple of really nice days up here. The temps hovered in the 70s and 80s for a couple of days. It was pretty surreal, considering we were surrounded by banks of snow. Little streams popped up out of nowhere and ran downhill. The ice broke on the river. House flies seemed to be born midair.
But we knew it wouldn't last. March 21 may be labeled "Spring Begins" on the calendar, but our valley must have misplaced its dayplanner. After those couple of beautiful days, the temperatures dropped back down and we re-entered the gray days.
I might want to wear flip-flops, but I really need to wear a good old pair of boots to keep my feet out of the wet snow.
On Easter we had a big of a snowstorm. I think we had five to six inches here on the hill.
Even though it's disheartening sometimes to see the flurries swirl in the air after you've tasted spring, I can't harbor bitterness. Well, I could. But what would be the point of that? At least Easter's snow made everything white again!
I still love you, snow... wait - what?!