There’s some debate about its origin, but the quote I keep thinking of is this:
It snew and blew
And then it thew
And then, by jing, it friz.
Yesterday, Millie and I made a quick trip into Bradford. We didn’t need the AC like we did on Sunday, but we rode with the window down.
Up in the afternoon, it cooled. By 10 p.m. the snow was flurrying. And it flurries all night.
Too warm to do any damage, but “it snew.” And snewed until about noon.
After a brief intermission, we got a few raindrops before, as Jed Clampett might have sais, “it commenced to sleeting.”
Spring in the northern Appalachians is less soothing than composer Aaron Copeland would have us believe.
Perhaps naively, I firmly believe Copeland’s vision is just ahead. I’m certainly ready for it.