Seasonal Shifting on the Horizon

The snow banks in Boston have come down to knee high from waist high. Walking to the gym this morning, it almost seemed that winter was over. It's not, of course. In New England it goes on awhile into what would be spring in other places. 

I am not complaining. I like winter. 

Though when we enter that transitory period between winter and spring, when the white melts away to black underneath, and ponds of rock-salted muck appear, I think everyone's ready to fast-forward.

Before winter does disappear, I want to mention one of its unexpected beauties. 

A couple times over the past weeks, as I've been walking to work after a snowfall, the wind has stirred the snow from the roofs of buildings along my path and thrown a swirl of crystals up against the morning sun. The effect is stunning, like a daylight fireworks display. 

The mundane canyons downtown transform to alpine peaks for an instant, and I feel confirmed in my willingness to notice such brief displays. I wonder if anyone but me has looked up from our determined burrowing toward the day's pending work.