Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Sometimes I Do Miss California Weather
The snow tumbled from the sky for hours, blanketing the ground and transforming cars into mounds of white. Then the rain came. Each drop burrowed through the snow, leaving the white covering full of tiny scars. Rivers formed. The piles of snow decayed into translucence and began sloughing off layers of melting flakes. We all clutched umbrellas or jammed gelid hands into coat pockets. The world outside turned to slush, and the sky wept relentlessly, and the icy ground betrayed each footstep: suddenly the dullest building was a blessed sanctuary.