Out of Season
“It shouldn’t be like this,” he said. “I know,” I agreed. “We should be seeing little bits of green in the grass.” “I know,” I said. As giant clusters of March snow fell, the silence between us spoke our sorrow for the climate crisis with no need to mention the bitter cold that keeping us away from the St. Patrick’s Day parade. We knew. We knew how the weather had once been this time of year. Unpredictable perhaps, but not so extreme that lives were lost seemingly nonstop to floods and fires. The calendar said spring was five days away.
