The sky outside is impossibly blue and there isn't a single mare's tail of a cloud in the sky. Not even bloody con trails cross the infinite blue. The sun is a searing ball of blinding light and the skeletal trees stand silent without a puff of wind to stir their gnarled twiggy fingers. The squirrels race up and down the trees and across the road like they are still in the throes of spring fever.
There is no snow.
There is snow back in Ohio and snow in other parts of this country, even a bit at the higher elevations, but nothing here. I long for the cold crisp bite of snow laden air and the cool kiss of flying flakes on my skin.
There is no snow.
There is, however, sign of the coming season and it is all redneck. Nothing like jumping the gun.
At least someone is planning ahead.
That is all. Disperse.
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