Sunday, January 10, 2016
A perfect spring day, Tuesday, March 11. In New England, we know well enough to jump on it. We’ll have some kind of precip tomorrow, rain, sleet, snow, sneet, then a cold day or two; back to warmer on the weekend. Spring tease.
Besides birdsong, top-down convertibles and runners in tank tops and shorts, other signs: Industrious young people scrape the chunky slush off the skate park concrete. Demand has been pent up for a long time.
Waves flow down the sidewalks, and snowmelt finds its way to storm drains. Impervious surfaces will cost us, we are told.
Around 6 p.m., a veil of wispy clouds is drawn over the blue sky as “weather” starts to edge its way in.
All winter, the First Churches clock has been stuck at quarter past nine. Then Daylight Saving, and my watch broke. That very day, someone wound the big clock, so it’s right again. This means a lot to someone whose watch isn’t working. Yes, I could check the time on my phone. But I’d rather look at my watch.