Balloons Against the Snow

Somehow I think the balloons aren't going to pull this one out.

Sunday morning, March 1st.  Twenty degrees.  Cloudy.  Slow flurries of snow are beginning to fall.

The balloons are floating from a stoop on the side of the apartment across from mine. On the way to Bosnia.

 I think they're having a party.

I've taken a shift at the Orchard and have to be there in a couple of hours.  Still have to pick up prescriptions on the way.

The National Weather Service tells me that 6 to 12 inches of snow are on the way as well (sorry about the verb tense there).

Indeed, just in the few moments it's taken to type this the snow has begun to accelerate - even though the real storm isn't due to arrive for almost 12 hours.

Since I have the kind of brain that is easily addled by the observation of transitions in anything it's been a very engaging few minutes.  Just driving over here to JavaNet was fascinating.  

It's like seeing the world from inside a snow globe - huge soft flakes drift down, slowly, gently dancing in the wind.  They slide over the tops of cars parked in front of me (of course, if they were parked behind me I wouldn't be able to see them - and they'd make an unholy mess in the coffee shop).

There are actually two motorized wheel chairs in the picture above - I had to stop in the intersection to take it.  The first one - hidden - has pink bands, what I suppose are rubber bumpers.  You can just see them on the left.  They roll down the street, bundled up like up-armored APC's - which, I suppose, in some way, they are.

Or, I suppose they are, in some way.  

I can tell which cars have been sitting, perhaps left over from last night in the Old Port.  They are starting to collect dustings of snow, the ones parked this morning still have enough warmth in their hoods to keep clean.

I suspect that will change.

And so I'm getting ready to head to the Orchard to cover a shift.  One of my former students is having car trouble and is prepping it in advance to the coming apocalypse.

A small army of "formers" came in yesterday.  It was fun to see - maybe I did more good than at first apparent.

We'll see.

An actor friend has stopped by to shelter from the wind - poor actors, they always seem so defenseless against the cold.

Yeah, like composers are such a thick-skinned lot.

So, coffee and conversation, and yes he's got a piece of pie too.

Damn fine cherry pie.