Tuesday, March 4, 2008

White Wind

The afternoon came on with wind. A white wind blown over the tops of the mountains, in a spray, like water on rock, that misted down from miles away, erasing the blue, scratching at the afternoon gold on the clouds, painting the daylight in a gray, then a sullen yellow, before bleaching the sky into bone. White-washing what little remained of our weekend glimpse of Spring. A white wind, a vindictive February wind with teeth and open palms made for slapping. The snow crusted over and try as he might, Duncan couldn't pull it over him when he rolled in it. It merely cracked around him and caught in his collar, brittle chunks of ice. When we walked it slivered his paws and bit at my face, bringing tears to our eyes as we leaned into the force of it on our way home.
Spring could not have been further away tonight. But we watch from our window and hold close to one another as only a dog and his companion can while the world, bland and cold in the last days of winter, blows against it.

1 comment:

Lori said...

I've been feeling that stirring that hints that, while I can't yet see it from here, Spring MIGHT actually come sometime in the not too distant future. We've had snow on the ground since December 1, not even that teasing taste of Spring that you recently enjoyed. I'm not sure if those glimpses are a blessing or a cruel joke!