After a steamy summer season and an autumn just as cool and laid back as the stride of a black man winter finally showed up on my Louisiana door step. First of all the trip to New Mexico was dangerously exciting as the snow storm ripped through the little town and pretty much showed it whose boss. Tiny snowflakes, all beautiful and delicate, proved beyond the shadow of a doubt that size and appearance mean nothing. Those miniature beauties piled one on top the other until we were knee deep in snow. Having endured the rigors of Chicago winters my whole life it was refreshing to see snow again albeit under such conditions. The roads were nothing short of a mess, as if a group of children had taken the opportunity to experiment with slush and dumped it on the tops of buildings that now moaned the loss of roof tops and shingles. Cars were doomed but not even the average pick-up truck could sustain the beast that tore through this small town that is usually not equipped to handle such weather. New Mexico was in a state of emergency and we were smack down in the middle of it. (You risk takers you!) The fog was so thick that you couldn’t see in front of you, like when steam takes over the bathroom after a hot shower and blocks your view of the mirror. We had to slow down and eventually stop on the way over it was so cloudy. You’ve never seen the sky milked like this before.
In any event, by this time last year Shreveport had already seen a splash of snow so we half-heartedly expected to come back to warmer weather. That is until I stepped out the car early this morning, when the sun is still hiding behind the clouds and many of you were calling hogs in your sleep, to the bitterness of the air.
“Well, then. Good morning winter. Nice to see you again.”