As soon as I started work this morning, I heard the telltale signs of scraping outside. There was freezing rain overnight, and the streets were suddenly more suitable for skating than driving. One of the days where I’m gladder than ever not to have to scrape off a windshield first thing in the morning.
Out my window I can see that the snow has turned slick, and icicles are dripping off the trees.
Yesterday’s footsteps placed in the snow have turned into smooth, clear shoe prints. At lunch, I took the dog for a slippery stroll, crushing my feet down extra hard coming down on our outside stairs to break up the ice after I almost flew off the top step.
I decided to come back after, and grab my camera and do a second little walk, capturing some of the ice . There’s ordinary beauty it in even though the sky is grey and everything seems sombre.
The swirly tree branches, the sad little grass that’s trapped in the ice. I love the satisfying crunch of a sheet of fresh ice under my boot.
Then there’s reality. The sewer grate with tons of freezing water running through, and the chunks of ice chipped off driveways. We spent some time all three of us, shoveling (and riding the shovel), crunching the ice, trying to move it off our steps and driveway.
Inside again, I opened my window. The air smells so fresh and I can hear dripping now, water running, more that frustrated people scraping and shoveling. I hope it melts a lot before it freezes over, and soon enough we’ll be back to everyday winter weather.