Icing

Icing

The moon pushed the darkness farther away than a normal full moon. No need for street lights tonight, except where tall old apartment buildings threw long shadows. The streets shone. Unfortunately they weren’t wet with warm spring rain - mainly because it wasn’t spring. Harriet sighed. It had rained during the day and was not warm. West coast winters didn’t often bring snow. There were piles of half melted snow dirtied from the roads. Drivers of the few snow plows the little town owned always dumped the snow by storm drains. Storm drains that sluiced away rain water in all seasons. Harriet sighed again. Pillows of bright white snow transformed into gray icy looking rocks of greying snow melt. Harriet was normally cheerful and enthusiastic about winter and good sticky snowball snow. Rain, not so much, unless sprouting snowdrops and daffodils were awakening and needing a soft downfall. Tonight, she had planned a leisurely walk in the velvety, moonlit night. Clear skies and star sparkled skies. The neighbourhood had been quiet, save for the occasional dog barking. Nightbirds called through the quiet air. Harriet had learned that clear skies preceded by a rain only meant one thing. Ice. The temperature always dropped, often just below freezing and tonight was no exception. She carefully avoided icy lumps in the shapes of snow boots and sneakers. And so her leisurely stroll had turned into cautious two-step with only the music of crunching ice and snow, along with whispered curses.

Turning towards home and solid ground, Harriet’s foot landed on a black patch of shadowed sidewalk. Her foot slid forward til she was almost doing the splits, not something she was familiar with. The curses were a bit louder as she allowed herself to fall and tip over into……you guessed it……one of the dirty, icy piles of snow. Harriet sighed again. Her laughter pierced the cold night air, waking up birds and dogs. No one else around, Harriet sat still until her laughter subsided, got her self upright and went into her cottage. Her old orange kitty, a mug of hot chocolate and a crackling fireplace, lovely qualities of snowy winters, always made intemperate winters livable. Service to the cold and damp, whether due to rain or snow.

“Climate is what we expect, weather is what we get.”

~ Mark Twain