The sky I saw on my way to work the other day was exactly what I thought: the harbinger of an early-spring snowstorm.
That, in and of itself, is not so unusual in this part of the world. It closed schools--and the college in which I teach yesterday. The brunt of the storm, though, bore down on us in the evening and through the night.
It was my least favorite kind of storm. Instead of puffy mounds of white powder, we got piles of slush and sheets of ice. The latter could make cycling to work hazardous, so I resorted to other forms of transport:
Oh well!
That, in and of itself, is not so unusual in this part of the world. It closed schools--and the college in which I teach yesterday. The brunt of the storm, though, bore down on us in the evening and through the night.
It was my least favorite kind of storm. Instead of puffy mounds of white powder, we got piles of slush and sheets of ice. The latter could make cycling to work hazardous, so I resorted to other forms of transport:
Oh well!
