The snowstorm of the year (I suppose the headlines demarcating it the "worst" were written by snow-haters: another instance of perspective being arbitrary) set my day back by a four-hour commute, a day that began with a long hike through the neighbourhood's accumulated knee-high snowdrifts, missing in the process two busses (buses?!) that apparently decided to declare undying love and proceed along the route back to back enforcing a prolonged wait for the next - sigh - but the walk itself was beautiful.
The evening sky as we head home was a paintbrush of rainbow; blue, yellow, orange,pink and violet, streaking across the frozen tabloid as if denying the stark white of our earth its monochrome supremacy.
Wiarton Willie, in Groundhog day tradition, decided to contest the findings of his colleague. Jury is still out on whether Spring will arrive early.
But who needs our furry friends to tell us? Spring, I have decided is already here. Its peeking under the snow piles, and winking from behind the frostbitten pines. It is waiting for us to notice that its already hidden in the icicles hanging on the bare branches, and doing the boogie under the eaves.
It was here all along, and in fact never left. So many times I have suspiciously looked around, with that sensation of someone watching you, hearing a tee-hee in the breeze, and catching a glimpse in peripheral vision. Sometimes you could not help but notice, like the day I left the office to be stunned by daylight - daylight at 5 pm! - or when I happened to step outside and encountered Spring chilling at the dumpster in the back of the building like your typical teenager skipping class. I tell you.
