Today, on April 26—the anniversary of my mother-in-law’s birthday (1918) and the town of Winthrop’s incorporation (1771)—at 11:00 a.m., I looked out the window to my backyard. And what should I spy? Snow, snow, and snow. Enough to get my hair wet as I took a picture of the patio table. Enough to frost the herbs and trees.
But not enough to stop the cavorting squirrels and their hanky panky. (The female squirrel certainly doesn’t make it easy for the male. You go, girl!)
The snow will not last long, and it will bring much needed moisture to what has so far been a dry spring. But still, snow in April is about as welcome as rain in January. Each in its own time.
For supper, I’ll be making chickpea and chicken sausage soup as well as a batch of biscuits to go with it. As I eat the hot soup, I’ll be thinking, “Snow, snow, go away!”