“Don’t look outside,” my wife yelled from upstairs as I ate breakfast and read the newspaper this morning, therefore, of course, ensuring I would do just that.
And when I turned my head to the right, there were giant snowflakes falling on my front lawn.
It never stuck to the road, and was going to melt off the grass soon enough.
And hey, it’s a thing that happens in the Northeast, right? It’s all part of the glory of having four seasons, right?
Logic (and a warmer forecast for next week) say this has to be about the end, a final desperate burp from a final, last gasp of a dying winter.
But it’s April 19, closer to Memorial Day than Groundhog Day, and closer still to our upcoming trip to New York.
It’s past time for winter to be over.