Today it was very cold on my walk to work, and the snow squeaked under my ridiculously inappropriate shoes. Yesterday's mud had frozen in ruts except for where fresh salt had been put down. There, the mud softened and melted and there was no snow to squeak. It was almost as if the mud was remembering our recent warm spell and refusing to give in to the reappearance of winter.
I'm with the mud, tired of winter and ready to be woken up by the weak sunlight and lengthening days.
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