Springtime in Minnesota is something more than a little bi-polar. Yesterday afternoon I was walking across the grass in flip-flops and capris, looking forward to a warm -- relatively -- Easter weekend.
I woke up at 6:30 this morning to find this.
I woke up at 6:30 this morning to find this.
The world had been coated in a thick, fluffy layer of snow. The weatherman's "possibility of 1 - 3 inches of snow" turned into closer to twelve inches by the time it stopped coming down, late this afternoon.
My planned, all day, excursion down by the river was shortened to about two hours before I came in and hid away in a storage room to enjoy the peace and quiet.
Word to the wise:
"Springtime in Minnesota is like trying to pick flowers that have been painted onto a brick wall. By the time you get close enough to grab them, you have already jammed your knuckles."
--thank you Peter Burr
Jessica Mac <><
My planned, all day, excursion down by the river was shortened to about two hours before I came in and hid away in a storage room to enjoy the peace and quiet.
Word to the wise:
"Springtime in Minnesota is like trying to pick flowers that have been painted onto a brick wall. By the time you get close enough to grab them, you have already jammed your knuckles."
--thank you Peter Burr
Jessica Mac <><
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