Morning Scene - Melting Snow

To me, there are few things more depressing than melting, fetid snow.

Growing up in Texas and having spent my first 38 years there, I can tell you that snowfalls are few and far between.

In my little bitty home town, we had snow two times:

1961 (I was almost two years old)
1972 (I was twelve)

I experienced it a couple of times later at the University of North Texas in 1980 and one other time in 1984, but that was it.

When nature would deign to give Texans the rarity of snow coverage, it would usually last a day or two and quickly melt away.

Three or four days later, there would only be little remnants of the event.

A day later, there would, perhaps, be just a little gray lump of ice along a sidewalk --

-- I would see it and know that it may be years, perhaps a decade, before this extraordinary bit of Northern influence might be able to make its way, again, to my isolated part of the world. . . .

So that's why melting snow is so sad for me.

Melting snow?

Innately, it only signifies that I may never be excited again.