Here around Boston, it’s perfectly normal for it not to go above freezing for a week in January. It’s not fun to go out, but it’s still pretty normal. When I venture out to feed the birds, it’s also pretty normal for me to linger, looking at the patterns in the snow.
This cap piled on the water ice garden tub has real structure. In such cold, the snow never melts, so it stays dry and white. It changes in slower, subtler ways. Like on the shoveled out edges, layers are forming, as if it’s quietly settling into place. Maybe the snow is hoping to become a glacier.
Still waiting for that January thaw to hit…
Writing Every Day 