Evanston’s getting a spring snowfall this afternoon, a last-gasp-of-winter snowfall that serves mostly to try to cover up the lovely weather we had over the weekend, warm and sunny weather that betokens the inevitable return of spring. This snow doesn’t even look like regular winter snow — it recognizes its belated role, forestalling the rightful advance of the seasons just out of spite and cold-heartedness.
Plus — and this doesn’t affect my outlook on the weather at all — it’s delaying the flight that will bring my sweetheart back home to her family. The snow will be gone in hours, days at most; why must it indulge the puerile temptation to prolong my separation from Margaret?