Butter Cream

Yesterday snow covered most of my back yard. A small bare patch of grass ran along the south-facing fence, the snow melted away early from the soft reflection.  Over the course of the day the snow changed. The beginning of a spring shape shifting. Grass showing here and there, then suddenly, the grass becoming prominent with the snow patches becoming isolated.  Reducing their presence.
I walked downtown for a cup of coffee at Freshies and back. In that short time, the pattern changed dramatically. I couldn’t say how, just different.

This morning, snow only lies where it’s shaded–along the back fence and on the north side of the yard.  Still no green, but a matted brown mess of a lawn.  A thatching job waiting for a day when the snow leaves completely.
Tomorrow. Hot Dog Day.
A celebration of the 80’s when Hot Dogs, Wayne Wong and Susie Chapstick skied as King and Queen of the Hill.  When Ralph Jackson still strung together Royal Christie after Royal Christie. Avelmont was understood and practiced. Look Ma dropped to Mid-Vail, a snow covered seeming vertical parking lot full of VW Bugs.  Miss one turn and miss the rest.
Tomorrow we drop the admonition, “Friends don’t let friends wear day-glo” and glo like mad.
Not much else to say.
Hot doggin’ snow-melting kind of week.
And the skiing? Out of this world.  In another freeze thaw couple days, the mountain will be corned up and we’ll be skiing butter cream for the rest of the year.
Yahooo.