A week ago, spring was on its way! R and I walked leisurely through the Northside neighborhoods, in search of "for rent" signs for me. We saw blossoms on the trees!
In the days that followed, we sat outside in the sunshine on benches on the pedestrian mall; R read from Benjamin Hale's new novel while I read articles on my tiny laptop on the ethics of affect in Mrs. Dalloway for an annotated bibliography, and a jazz band played swing music for a festival of swing dancers. R even got sunburned.
Then yesterday morning I woke up and walked into the kitchen to start some hot water for tea--I have a cold, by the way--and was greeted by the following sight from my kitchen window:
Yes, dear reader, that would be snow. I didn't believe it. I opened my front door to make sure:
Yup. It was snowing. In mid-April.
I mean, what can I possibly say? 24 hours later, and I'm not sure that it even happened.
