Friday morning, we raised the insulating blind to look out on the new day. The previous day’s snow had begun to melt in the night, beating a steady tattoo of drips on the metal roof over our bedroom. At some point in the night the rhythm increased and changed, telling us that the snow had turned to rain. Through it all, intermittent crashes signaled that heavy rafts of snow still clung precariously to the branches above the cabin, losing their grip in spectacular fashion periodically.
The snow in the yard had melted somewhat, but had also been added to heavily from the loads falling from the trees. Michelle surveyed the scene and summed it up perfectly:
“It’s so . . . March!” Continue reading
