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Goodbye, Jack

Winter was like a wound that wouldn't heal in D.C.
Just when you thought it was over, a blanket of snow fell on the city.

I saw more snow this winter than just about any other time in my life, and I got tired of it real quick.
You see, when it snows in D.C., people just keep going. In Wichita Falls, white stuff with even a hint of ice means shuttin' 'er down, barricading yourself inside with a supply of stick-to-your ribs food and cowering on the couch with the remote.
In D.C., snow means leaving earlier to get to work, wrapping up in a scarf, hat, gloves, long coat, long underwear, a shirt, another shirt and pants. Next comes the trudge to the bus stop at the corner of M and 27th where the wind howls extra special long and loud.
The walk home -- in the dark, of course -- brings chills and the sight of a city encrusted with snow growing dirtier with each passing car.
But sometimes, the D.C. winter means the magical sight of a blanket of white thrown over everything, making the buildings and street look clean and frosting the monuments.
Then, finally, it's goodbye, Jack Frost.
Spring in D.C., that's a different animal altogether.
I've never seen so many flowers. Crazy blooms of fuschia, light pink and red cling to trees and bushes.
A storm of petals drifts down to line sidewalks and driveways like pink snow. Scarlet tulips salute the sun, a splash of lemon yellow in their centers. Impatiens flow along flowerbeds, and green spills over everywhere.
Couples lounge on blankets around the Dupont Circle fountain, a 12-piece jazz band fills the gentle air with music, and D.C. comes alive.
It's not the same as seeing the bluebonnets, paint brushes and other wildflowers lining the roads in Jack County or just outside of Wichita Falls.
But it'll do for now .

Posted by Trish Choate at 05:21 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)