Pansies

It's wonderful having a balcony, but up here on the fourth floor, the wind blows almost incessantly, and the sunlight is harsh. But I've gotten better at finding hardy plants, and last summer I finally had a nice, verdant little garden where I could sit surrounded by zinnias and daisies and succulents.

But summer seems like a long time ago, and once the mums bloomed then browned, I snipped and deadheaded everything and once the rains hit I pretty much stopped going out there.

And now this week they've been talking snow, so one afternoon I pull in my babies (aside from the pansies in the flower box, which are just going to have to brave the storm) and crowd them onto a couple of little stools.

The next day, a guy empties a bag of charcoal briquettes in an alcove of the museum and sets it ablaze. When the fire department comes to extinguish it, they tell us this has been happening all over the city but that they've been mostly ignoring it unless there's a risk of property damage. Sure enough, as I leave work, I see people huddled around fires in many of the doorways.

That night it does indeed snow, and when I leave for work the next morning, the sidewalks are covered with a slick dusting. The streets are milky with ice, and I roll along extremely slowly. The only trouble I have is on the bridge, which is covered in a few inches of snow. I have to essentially walk my scooter across while still resting my knee on it. It takes a long time and the handlebars keep getting jerked from side to side. I'm sore by the time I get to work but I'm glad it isn't worse.

By the end of the day the sidewalks are mostly just wet. Salt crunches beneath my wheels. The snow on the bridge is still thick and bumpy with footprints. When I'm halfway across, a dented hatchback pulls up and the driver leans out and asks if I need a ride. I thank him and tell him no thanks, I'm almost home. He smiles and waves as he drives off.

That night the news shows clips of tractor trailers overturning and cars skidding into the river. Trees toppling, roofs collapsing under the weight of the snow. I pour myself a snifter of whiskey and cast a paternal gaze upon my little plants, huddled together and safe from the cold. Out the window, the hills are frosted, Christmas lights twinkling here and there. It's only been winter for a week. It seems like an endless road to spring.

 

for Nader