It snowed on Monday. And by snowed, I mean that three very soggy, very heavy, very COLD inches of snow fell out the sky and landed within my line of sight. The nerve... And here I was getting ready to pull out my lightweight jacket, dust off the old sandals and squeeze a lime into my beer. And I had legitimate reasons for being lulled into the unsafe notion that spring was just around the corner. The weather had been sunny. At 65 degrees one day you could even say it was warm. The dogs were getting restless and tracking mud into the house instead of snow, flip flops were being hung in the shoe store and on one fine afternoon I realized that my cheeks were flushed and that (gasp!) I was warm. So no, I was not happy when it started pouring down heavy, soggy spring snow. I was practically a Scrooge about the whole thing and protested by not shoveling the walk, which is city law here in Bozeman, until the afternoon.
But I do have to begrudgingly admit that it was pretty. Because it's heavier spring snow it clung to each and every tiny branch and twig, giving the neighborhood a kind of winder wonderland look. It was also the perfect type of snow for snowmen and while no snow statues were erected anywhere in town on my part, I did seriously think about it.