Early yesterday morning as I looked out our window to peak at the morning weather, I realized that I half-expected and half-WANTED to see everything covered in snow, rather than the few rain puddles that greeted me. Looking at the situation “objectively,” I recognize that this is sickness and madness, but nonetheless it is a true feeling. We need one more good snowstorm to wrap up everything, right? Right? I’ve enjoyed the warmer spring weather of the past week, but I guess there is part of me that is just not ready to say goodbye to snow yet. And since I live in the mountains of Utah, I have the privilege of a long, drawn-out farewell. Some of the stuff is still slumping in the shadows of the north face just a block up the street from me. But that’s just not the same as the fat, fresh snowflakes floating around and piling up on everything.

Well, today I got my snow. Sort of. It’s not sticking to anything, and half the time it is masquerading as rain, but there have been moments of genuine snow today in Vivian Park. The pictures above document this phenomenon.  Right now there are little flecks darting about, but the ground is practically dry.  I guess I won’t get snowplows today (although they were forced to visit Vivian Park, and even that pleasant valley city of Orem, one night just two weeks ago). And there is the consolation that someone built us a snowman in the park just last week.

Perhaps the real reason I am reluctant to say goodbye to the snow is because I never finished publishing my increasingly irrelevant Spring Run-Off / Winter 08-09 Recap here at the Froz-T-Freez. It’s my vain hope that as long as there is still the occasional snowstorm, such content cannot be rendered entirely obsolete.

Also, if it stops snowing and raining all the time, I will have no excuse but to start doing yard work. The receding snowpack revealed all sorts of rocks, branches, debris and garbage on our lawn and driveways that need to be gathered up, swept and thrown away, and the lawn is already overdue for its first cutting. I’m also feeling the hurt now for not planting some new bushes and perennials last fall, but I’m trying not to dwell on that oversight.

As it turns out, I am asking the snow to cover up quite a few things, and not just mud and garbage. I’m not ready to come out of hibernation. I’m not ready for the change. I’m hoping to finish up two long overdue record reviews early this week, so that we can get on with the work of the present time. This is the Froz-T-Freez after all, so an obsession with all things frigid should not come as too much of a surprise. Nonetheless, nostalgia is just one of the items on the menu here; it’s not intended to be our specialty.

We met at an art exhibit. We met in the comment section of my blog. We met in a snowstorm in a cottage in the mountains. We met at a symphony concert, sitting next to each other. We met at Family Home Evening and commiserated because we both hated Family Home Evening. We met at the library and traded poems. We met in the Provo temple. We met in empty parking lots and Mexican restaurants and our parents’ houses. We met at a movie theater where we were both making fun of the movie. We met at IKEA, buying bookshelves. We met at an art supply store. We met at a little Chinese place by the hospital. We met on the yellow BART line between San Francisco and Lafayette. We met hiking on a trail in Millcreek Canyon on the last nice autumn day before winter.  We met to shovel snow under the full moon.  We met because we both liked a painting by Brian Kershisnik.

Today is the first day of spring.

I was extremely reluctant to assert or admit any impending springness prior to today, but now I finally feel confidant in announcing the obvious fact of spring’s advent. This confidance comes not only from our calendar, which dictates the declaration, but more importantly from my personal observations of a transformation so universal underway that it reaches even our shadowy and recalcitrant location in Provo Canyon.  This afternoon I walked a bit of the way up the South Fork Road, and the sun was out from behind the mountain and actually warm enough I could have been wearing shorts.  The snow that had been everywhere just thirteen days ago is now mostly gone.  The creek is quick and full of water and there are large patches of moss and green grass below its surface.  There are birds twittering, there are insects in the air, and there are small creatures rustling in the undergrowth.

It’s safe to say that winter is now over without jinxing things.  However, I’m not foolish enough to confuse the end of winter with the end of snow, especially in a canyon.  We almost always get spring snowstorms on the Wasatch Front, even in the valleys.  I have numerous childhood memories of Eastertime snow in Utah.  Two years ago, if I recollect correctly, a respectable amount of snow dropped on the Salt Lake Valley one day in the middle of June.  You meteorology enthusiasts at home can go check the stats if you don’t trust my anecdotal evidence.

As I have thought about this coming termination of winter, I have realized something: the moment provides an ideal alternative resolution to my failure to publish grandiose and comprehensive 2008 end-of-the-year lists, synopses, and brag-fests here at the Froz-T-Freez.  Everyone else goes by the year; I’m going to go by the seasons, because it feels more natural to me, and it’s my blog so I can.  In the next few days I will finally get around to sharing more winter pictures, and I will be posting features on some of my favorite albums of this past winter.  The snow is melting and the creeks are filling up; the canyon has been overflowing with winter for months and it has to spill out somewhere.  What better place than here?  Think of it as one of those spring snowstorms: it may or may not make you slightly nostalgic for the winter, but it will all melt away in just an afternoon.  At most in a day or two.  Or maybe you’ll need to give it a good, patient week to totally disappear.

My desk, where I am sitting right now, faces a window that looks out to our back yard. I got home from work a few minutes ago and I came here to set up my laptop. As I opened the window blinds, I was amazed to see part of our patio bare of snow, and, what’s more, even a small patch of yellow muddy grass!

This may not seem incredible to most people on the Wasatch Front, who have had bare ground for a while now, but to me, here in the canyon, it is astounding. Our yard has been buried in feet of snow since December. We used snowshoes a month ago to go out there to check our propane tank and get something out of the shed.  Just last week we received three days of snow dumping, bad enough that one evening last week our neighbor, who conveniently for us owns a backhoe, used it to help clear out our street and even one of our driveways.

So I was somewhat heartened by this little observation of melting snow, and was sitting here by myself thinking that it was remarkable enough that I ought to compose a little sentence or two about it for twitter and/or facebook, when I saw movement out on the snow. My first thought was one of dread: it must be a rat. The shape I saw was about the right size for a rat, and we saw one living on and swimming in the river by our house last fall. I peered into the waning evening light and soon caught sight of the movement again. Standing right in the middle of the newly revealed patch of grass was a fat red-breasted robin, and it was yanking a worm out of the ground. In the few minutes since then, I have seen this robin flying around our backyard with yet another robin. I couldn’t see very well in the evening light, but I think my first robin was fighting the other robin for this precious territory. Now the robin is sitting in our pine tree, making quite a pleasant chattering and squawking racket.

I’m going to try to resist giving voice to the sentiment that no doubt we are all thinking right now.

They are flying around again. I can now see that one of the robins is smaller and not so colorful. There is also a definite call and response going on with their chirping, too. I’m thinking now that what I’m privy to is probably less a fight than it is a tumultuous courtship.

I’m not going to say any more until all the snow is gone and there are buds on the trees.