Photo of the Day: Last Winter Snow, First Day of Spring

I grumbled to myself as I sprinkled salt and sand on my walkway early last night. It was criminal, I thought, to waste these resources on something that could turn out to be close to nothing: the snow forecast for the first day of spring. I was annoyed that the temperatures had dropped into the 30s so soon after climbing into the 70s—all a precursor to a back-and-forth weather change that could result in a cold or worse.

As I left my local Starbucks and watched the flakes settle on the parked cars, my impatience switched to the media. Time was when people at the local news stations called themselves “weathermen,” “forecasters” or, if they wanted to sound scientific, even “meteorologists.” Now, they styled themselves the “Storm Team.” 

But “storm” connotes high winds, Biblical-style floods, or snowpiles enough to surround cars. It does not—repeat, not—involve snow amounts that the “Storm Crew” predicted for my area as being at most two inches and probably more like “a trace.” 

“Storm Team” for that amount? That would be like calling a bunch of sixth-grader basketball players who couldn’t tie their sneaker laces “The Dream Team.”

When I stopped out the door this morning, there was a small coating on my porch steps—and this scene in my local park that I photographed as my bus passed by a few minutes later. It was an annoyance, but at least I caught a pretty scene for one transitory moment.

And now, be gone with you, Winter, and don’t try my patience any longer.