Snow Weather

This was a weekend where ambiguity was dismissed. We are no longer between seasons as the summer ends and autumn begins, we are in full fall. We had what locals here call unfriendly skies. They were closer to ill-tempered and irascible.

There was a dampness transformed into a meanness that makes your bones ache especially for those of us with surgical alterations that don't gracefully handle weather transitions well in the first place.

The skies were for the most part not just grey but slate grey and there was a bite to the winds that promised little good for those outside, raking or wandering admiring the now suddenly falling and fading faster fall foliage.

We had a long warm summer into autumn. Those days are well and truly behind us now. There's an air of urgency when you watch the squirrels scamper across Chelsea Parade carrying food to store for the winter or looking for a place to bury what they have for later. I still have trouble believing they remember all of the stash points, despite science to the contrary. I should train one to worry about my car keys.

I'm grateful to live where we have four seasons, sometimes on the same day. I could live on the West coast of Mexico and be praying that this, too, shall pass, realizing that it will (of course) but unable to calculate damages or duration until well after the storm has ended.

Disquiet aside, I guess I'll take my snow weather and curse the storm that takes you away.

Stolen from Humans of New York (a marvelous book you should own)

-bill kenny