Cosmic Comedy

This past week saw record February snowfall here in the Twin Cities followed by a string of days in the mid-forty degree range. Tomorrow's forecast predicts another six inches of the white stuff just when you think Borealis has lost his grip.

Condo living removes some of winter's frustrations, but I clearly remember the angst of unexpected spring snowstorms even in the month of April.



Cosmic Comedy


I know I complained about the sullied bedrolls of snowbanks. And, yes, I whined about the archeological finds of cigarette butts and discarded styrofoam, emerging through winter's shrinking drifts. But why did you decide to listen to me this time, and try to make things nice? Sure, last night's whiteout hides the grime, and the heap of fresh snow balanced delicately on stilled branches is worthy of its front page photo. But after the last blizzard my right boot now leaks, my snake-bit car balks at the end of the drive, and six inches of cement-like moisture awaits my dented shovel, already claiming workman's comp. We are not amused.



Marilyn Aschoff Mellor