Two days ago it was 70 degrees in Ann Arbor. After dinner, Chris and I got coffees from Espresso Royale and wandered over into the Diag to see the campus come alive with the promise of spring. Students were everywhere with pale limbs and soft bellies, squinting mole-faced into the light, tossing frisbees and baseballs back and forth, all self-conscious and pliable as if being seen for the first time in months. They sat on the concrete benches in front of the library, their feet resting on the last remnants of snow -- random ice piles covered in dirt. The ground was squelchy and brown from all the melting.
Yesterday it was still in the 60s and a warm rain melted the stubborn patches of snow that clung to shaded parts of front lawns and even the corners of our deck.
And this morning, I woke to an inch of fresh snow, light and fluffy, coating the branches of trees like a picture postcard.
How odd.