Thursday, April 16, 2009
I knew that there would be snow when I woke up this morning, but I still marveled at the volume of wet, heavy slush that had glazed everything in the city. At first I saw it as an annoyance - I was late for a study group and was not particularly grateful for the opportunity of scraping four to five inches of sludge off my car. It slid off easily and splattered on the asphalt like a clumsy child's ice cream cone.
My negative emotions quickly dissipated when the fog cleared from my windshield and I saw how beautiful the morning was. Unlike a typical, dismal winter morning, there was green and purple under the snow and yellow above it from the bright and naked sun. I considered skipping my study group completely in favor of a morning photo shoot before the scene disappeared for another year, but I ultimately followed that innate wisdom who called me back to reality.
I left the study group a little early and practically ran to my car to grab my camera. The snow was melting quickly and increased my sense of urgency with each drop. I had already missed some opportunities and I saw that time was against me. I felt it, actually. More than once falling masses of white sludge hit me square in the face. And not just me!
Once I had my camera I was drawn to the stone path that runs along the southwest hillside through the most wooded area of campus. The path is seldom used, and today it was completely deserted. Not 10 seconds after entering it, however, I realized why no one would want to be there at that moment. The canopy formed by the interlocking branches bowed under the weight of the heavy snow and sweat and shed huge globs of slush in random places. Before long I was exceptionally wet and had taken some exceptional pictures.
I can only hope that a future female counterpart enjoys such absurd and beautiful scenes as much as I do.
Everything was beautiful and fine and dandy while I was taking pictures. Then I went back to my car. I reached in my pocket and - * gasp! *- no keys! At some point during my wandering in the vacuum of winterspring photography, I dropped my keys in the real world. Crud.
I ran back to the stone path, although this time it was an unfriendly gauntlet; taunting, expectorating globs of cold, unwelcome slush. I dashed through it looking neither right nor left nor up. My eyes were focused on the wet ground below; I just wanted my keys.
I didn't find them until much later, by which time much of the snow had melted. Only after the temporary fantasy world was all but gone, I found my keys to the real world which I had so innocently and carelessly abandoned. I picked them up graciously and drove home. Would I miss the snow? Yes. Would I welcome spring? Yes. And for one day, I got a bit of both. It was a good day.