So it is April 11, and today we were blessed with 8 inches or so of snow. It was a significant snow, and in the morning it was down right blizzard-like. It took me more than 40 minutes to get to work, a trip that normally takes about 12 minutes.
I am but one of many people in the Upper-Midwest who are seriously tired of winter in any way, shape, or form. Last year at this time there were tulips in full bloom, people weren't afraid of frostbite if they showed any flesh, and we were long done with scraping windows. Perhaps that is why this lingering, interminable, unending, too long, never ending season seems to hurt so much.
All that whining aside, it was beautiful this morning. After an earlier snowstorm, someone asked me if I had taken photos, and I pointedly said no. For so much of my life I felt programed to take photos of every change of season or weather event. If it snowed, I was like Pavlov's dog and headed out to my car to drive around and find a feature photo. I have experienced surprising joy by skipping this ritual. But just like the first snow, hopefully this last snow was significant enough to photograph. I had only two cameras with me, a point and shoot and my phone, almost an empty camera bag for me for a pretty big event. It was a $500 point and shoot, and a pretty good phone, but still. Actually, it was one of those days where all you had to have to make a good photo is a camera, any camera. As you can see. I hope
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