Tuesday, February 20, 2007


Something that resembles the season.

I was raised, mostly, in Boston.
The northeast imbeds in your make-up (or you junk it and, by now, have headed to warmer climes).
So, a winter without is more than a disappointment, it's the skipping of a season and leaves, in its spring wake, an unsettling sense of things left undone.

(global warming, ahem and that said)

Fortunately, a few things were righted in the northeast last week:
the fellow who plows has supplementary income,
my Subaru can back clean over parking lot plow-drifts and smoosh its SUV rivals,
my cardinals have their ideal canvas and my snow boots a chance to tromp to the mailbox.

Finally too: gas station winter conversation can get back to bemoaning the cold and wondering when the damn stuff should melt.

As it should be.


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