The snow yesterday did not
come to much. What we got had melted by day's end. The news is that we got freezing mist or drizzle about bed time and now as I look out at Washington Street, there is a great shine to the street, as if there's a good coating of ice out there. Blue sky and sun might help reduce the slipperiness toot sweet, as they say in the linguini franka.
No frost or ice on the windshield of the pick-up but the driveway is slippery. We'll walk the slow man's walk this morning; we'll go to work slowly, as if I'm driving to my own hanging, with that kind of deliberation.
I back out the driveway, then the wheels of the pick-up spin, even in second gear, even idling.
North of the village on Highway E, the road is mostly clear and dry. The sun is bright, the fields blistering white. Farther north, there are icy patches here and there, enough to make a fellow nervous. You pay attention as if your life depends on it. In places the road is so slippery even the crows won't cross it.
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