A green golf-cart-like vehicle is driving past the window of the downtown Starbucks. The rear gate is down, and a man in a hooded Carhartt is dangling his legs off the back, sweeping armfuls of icemelt from behind himself and down onto the sidewalk.
That explains the curious patterns the salt makes.
The precipitation is falling like a fine, light snow, but making ripples in the puddles like rain. All morning, it hasn’t been able to commit to one form or the other — rain or snow or something in between.
Many of the trees in the oversized black planters outside are still clinging to leaves in shades of burgundy, orange, and chartreuse. The fall colors seem out of place with their branches’ accompanying thin layer of snow.
My son is enjoying his first snow day of first grade. Not at home, though: he’s at Extended Time, at the same place where he attended summer day camp. Hopefully, that means he’ll get to see some friends he hasn’t seen since August or September. For once, he was excited to go to ET; last year, he hated ET because he would miss his normal school friends. That boy is so social.
The car seems to just know the way to that school, after three straight months of morning drives to summer camp, after a full school year of snow days and all-day programs during breaks. Funny how an old routine can be so comfortable and familiar, like putting on that pair of sneakers after a summer of sandals.
Snowflakes are falling in earnest now, as I write this. This morning, as we drove to ET, the precipitation fell on the windshield as a light rain, but with the percussive hit of sleet. Hence why nearly every school district in the area cancelled for the day.
No snow day for us grown-ups, though. Time to get back to work.