/ Sincere as April Snow

We suffer these days from late snows, the promise of global warming broken into millions of six-sided dendrites, each one unique but equally unlikable. It is nothing like the gleeful anticipation of early snow, with teasing promises of artificial marshmallows floating in year-old cocoa, and frostbite from gloveless battles. These precipitations do not accumulate, they cover the ground killing the early birds and saving the worms, sublimating overnight so that no one believes what you saw. Late snows are charming, thrilling and deceitful paramours. They are cold, all the same.

Bird log, March 30 – Spotted Towhee, Pine Siskin, Rufous Hummingbird, Junco, Black-capped Chickadee, Robin, Varied Thrush, Red-breasted Nuthatch, House Finch, Steller's Jay.

When I was a kid in upstate New York, we were generally riding our bikes when the first snows of October came, and it caused us to ride harder so that by the end of the street we could pull tight on the brakes and slide all the way past the general's house. It was better than kissing, which even though might lead to second base, at least in the snow, on our bicycles, we actually knew what we were doing, knew exactly where to put our hands and our feet, knew exactly how much pressure to press into the pressing matter. Chipped teeth and bloodied knees were all part of the charm, we could track the drops of our efforts back along the sidewalk well into the night when the streetlights cast the colors into tones of black and white. The neighborhood parents knew where to find their boys, and called out only when their cruelty had been held at record-setting bays.

Weather report for March 31 – Snow showers, low of 28°. Confusion reins. Chance of sunset: 75%.

Lately, the town where I work has decided to specialize in bilocation, and I keep running across the fetch of every person to whom I still owe an apology, though the time is growing late and my remorse, were I to gather the courage of expression, would likely seem sincere as April snow.