Was there ever a drearier winter? Here it is, almost March and no sign whatsoever of springtime in the Rockies. From where I sit, all I see is snow and more snow. I’ve long since given up on snow removal; now it’s snow management. Between the shoulder-high drifts, a narrow footpath runs between my backyard office and the house. I try not to walk beneath the eaves, lest I be impaled by a falling icicle.
I rarely venture farther out than the driveway, or what used to be a driveway, in order to search for the morning newspaper. Sometimes I find it. The headline announces that Salt Lake City has the dirtiest air in the entire nation. Whoopee. We are under what’s called a red air alert, which means that breathing is unhealthy. Evidently so. I can’t help but notice that the obituary pages are crowding out the lifestyle section.
Meantime, the mule deer that winter at Mount Olivet cemetery are struggling to get by on whatever comes their way. But thanks to all the funerals, with their attendant wreaths and flowers, it looks like they’re going to make it. As the saying goes, ‘tis an ill wind that blows no good.
