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it was a funny thing, to me. the mere fact of its being completely unexpected, in days when of course it should arrive.
the snow. we had just been talking of its absence on sunday morning (i call it that but it was after noon, of course) as we saw it on television arrive in cleveland, not much farther north. a welcome sight for the gridiron goliaths who'd left the relative warmth of our city in search of the reason for the season. marveling, really, as its absence had extended, unabated, from the start of the season to its end with the exception of one night and one day of powdery bliss too far removed from christmas though within its dozen day demesne. and then, on sunday night (i call it that but it was closer to dawn than dusk, of course) i emerged from our well-furnaced abode to take out our leavings only to be truly flabbergasted at the sight of it, to see ophelia wearing a thin coat, the same as the street and the grass and leaves all about. it shouldn't stay long, just a night and a day again i'd say. supposed to be too warm for it by far from wednesday on. which suits me fine, i've said as much before, but a funny thing, too, how i miss it after all. enough almost to tempt me to wish to unwish my wish (i say this but it's merely wischiwaschi, of course).

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wabbit season
jones_casey
cleaning up so well

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