That spring has sprung out here isn't news. Southern winds trucked warm air up from this nation's sweet spots for several days already, howling along in fashion no one groused about, given the comforting warmth it was transporting so delightfull . You can actually just stand outside in shirtsleeves. Hundreds did.
For two weeks already the snow-cover has been gone, even though here and there dead sheep--the old dirt-spattered banks--still litter the place, a huge, dirty teepee still attending a giant maple right outside my office window. There's a pool betting on the day that glacier dies.
It was, methinks, the worst winter in my 40 years here on the edge of the Plains. The Old Man cut us no slack; what descended in November stayed put until March. When the college kid who scaled our roof descended, he told me he'd shoveled off two levels of powder between three levels of ice. No one ever pulled back the quilt winter laid all season long.
Most those men in seed caps just assumed massive floods once the sun came out again, but a slow rise in temps meant a leisurely melt--and, that massive snow blanket kept the ground snuggled. Beneath it, just an inch or so of frost stepped out quickly, and all that melting snow went straight down, where it'll do some read good instead of running off into the gutter and sewer. Winter's lion wandered off like some lost sheep.
But not until this morning, when I walked outside before five was I awakened to the new world by melodies of a couple of robust robins somewhere close. The almost-full moon lit the world nicely, throwing down shadows I'm not accustomed to seeing on my way out to the barn. But what was most noticeable--I wore shorts to the gym for the first time--was how warm it was. Fifty degrees. Almost shockingly warm. May warm. June warm. Not March warm.
Too warm. Scary warm.
So now this Calvinist is worried. After all, suffer as we did through the world's worst winter hereabouts, we don't really deserve this, all those blooming crocuses notwithstanding. Immediately--is it the Iowan in me or the old man or that rapscallion Calvinism?--I'm thinking that if its this warm, it's got to mean "tornado." After all, we can't possible deserve anything so sweet as early morning warmth. We're sinners. And besides, the weather in northwest is never that resplendent with grace. An old woman once told me that out here we get just ten good days a year, which was a way of saying shuttup and be happy wid watcha got.
Better get a flashlight and make sure the radio has batteries. Check the radar once in a while today. Can't be good. Anything this wonderful has to be trouble.