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No sounds of silence

 
They say, up here in the northland, there are two seasons: Road Removal and Snow Destruction. 
 
It’s snow season, so, in an ideal world, I would be sitting by a roaring fireplace with hot chocolate and a good book, with the entire outside world muffled to peacefulness under heaps of beautiful snowflakes. Oh, and I’d be living far enough from other people that the snow will remain beautiful, pure-white snow, with sparkling highlights and blue shadows, and it will crunch gently underfoot, providing safe traction and a frisson of cold where the flakes melt through my socks above my boots, until it thaws gently in the spring, revealing the tiny tips of crocus and tulip leaves.
 
That, of course, is not the world I live in.  Admittedly, sometimes you get a pleasant surprise, like last Monday, when it was late-spring-warm, with soft grey fog almost shining in the ambient light cast by a sun hidden in the nearly-white sky. Everything outside had that shiny, deep-colored look it does after a rain, at least until it got to be more than a few feet away from me. And it was quiet out, with most people lunching inside, probably due to the prediction of drizzle all day. There was some drizzle, but not while I was outside…
 
But today, the remaining snow is mostly black and grey (and sometimes yellow), and everywhere you look is a litter of trash. In yards and the park, mud and brown grass show through, and it's long before even the earliest bud will risk raising it’s tender leaves through the ground. And it is not only visually dismal—a crew is noisily cutting through the asphalt just outside my office’s bank of windows, preparing, according to our office manager, to work on sewer pipes. Leading to the possibility of smells that will match the quality of the current background noise. 

Oh, goody.

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