Pushing fifty without a cloud in the sky one day.
Complete with birds singing and patches of pasture and yard beginning to peep through the winter’s mantle of snow.
Comfortable enough to leave the coat hanging in the hallway and drive with the window down, a feat not accomplished since November.
Sunny enough to invoke some serious melt action; flows bump a little starting with the water cascading off the eaves in the warm late afternoon.
Feeling enough like spring to stir that impulse to look for the early tiny blue wings that pop on these spring days; you check when driving over the creek (or river if you please) even though you know it’s too sunny and too damned early.
The next day it’s snowing to beat the band.
A wet, heavy, almost graupel spring snow, heavier to shovel and one that you’d bet the farm will freeze during the cold night into a glaze of traction defying sheen.
While skiers rejoice fishers resignedly take heart in building snowpacks.
The spring tease has begun.
