April In Paris

The Warbler has not forgotten her dear (and not so dear) blog friends - how can she with the veritable smorgasborg of emails chastising her estrangement - but is finding the decision between sitting down and blogging or getting that extra half hour of sleep to be an extremely easy call. That being said...

A song has been written for many beautiful areas in Springtime. April In Paris, Springtime In The Rockies (I'm sure someone will remind me of Mel's Springtime For Hitler), Moonlight In Vermont. Folks, there's a reason nobody's ever written a song about April in Minnesota. Or even Springtime in Rochester. (Or my personal favorite May Flowers Bloom in July If You're In Minnesota) That's because my calendar now tells me it's nearly the middle of April - or at least nearly tax return deadline day - and there's a freaking snowstorm going on. Started last night. Was supposed to just be some snow. Nothing huge. Then it was supposed to stop around four p.m. (Please join me in a snort of derision.) Then there was a winter storm warning but the snow was still going to taper off this evening.

Confident in the eventual demise of said storm, and the promised quick and easy meltage, I parked myself in my not-so-local American Red Cross Building for the second evening of my CPR class (took me long enough, eh?) - and by the way, who aced the test with nought a mistake? - looking forward to the easier drive home. Boy, was I ever surprised when I exited the building (nicknamed Gangland so I was a-walkin' fast) and found the snow coming down almost as big and ploppy as before, with a tad bit of wind behind it just to make sure I noticed it's presence. I say 'tad bit'. The locals would call it 'windy'. Windy? Puh-lease. You don't know windy until you've lived on a tiny island twelve miles out into the Atlantic. I laugh at your general windy-ness.

April in Paris? Sounds good. Springtime in the Rockies? I'm all for it. Moonlight in Vermont? Why not? I bet it's warmer there.