It has snowed again.
Normally, I shrug off the weather. Once, standing on a small boat off the coast of Juneau, Alaska, getting beaten by the ocean water mist, a local said to me, “There is no bad weather. There are only bad clothes.” This was coming from someone who lived in one of the rainiest places in North America. She beamed, her face glowing as a light drizzle came down from the skies. I nodded my head in fervent agreement. Previously I had held vague formations of similar sentiment, and with her wise words, they became a solidified life mantra.
But now, with another blanket of snow in mid-April, my resolve is waning.
Continue reading “grumpy with a side of grapefruit.”