Walking along rue St. Jean-Baptiste

You barely meet anyone on the road these cold mornings,
someone out shoveling snow or walking their dog,
or walkers, like the elderly gentleman round the corner,
limping along for his daily constitutional,
twice around the block,
"pour la santé".

We pass, exchange nods, & hurry along,
braced for the wintry blast that slices by,
whipping into our faces and bones,
a subtle reminder that physical vulnerability
to these absolutely predictable elements,
won't necessarily deter us.

What I like most, though, is the quiet. The absence of distraction.
Everything is as it should be.

~~~~~~~~

I know I said yesterday that I was getting sick of it--the snow, the cold, the long, bleak winter afternoons. Last week we had a reprieve of sorts and it turned warmer and I actually saw a patch of mud--and in the lot behind the school, a bit of grass (not green--it was brown and still frozen, but at least some "earth" was visible besides nothing but snow, snow, and more snow).

I AM anxious for Spring, ready for the flowers and little perennial herbs to begin inching their way out of the ground and start blooming again in my garden. It's also true that I absolutely cannot imagine living anywhere where it doesn't ever snow. Go figure.