And early this morning I learned that birds will chirp even as a light snow falls. As an amateur bird-whisperer, here’s my interpretation of one 6:25 a.m. avian conversation: “I wanted to fly to Florida but no, you said Charlotte was where birds flocked together. Mother said I should have nested with Randy Robin.” Or something like that.
As soon as I stepped out the front door in the 33F snow/drizzle mix, it was pre-determined that only non-degradables (i.e. plastic and polystyrene) were on today’s pick up list. Paper? Too soggy. It would remain in situ for later retrieval.
To this former Midwesterner, there’s something nice about a snowfall. It muffles the non-bird sounds of an already quiet morning. Charlotte goes all atwitter, however, at the very mention of snow; it gives owners of rugged SUVs
all the rationale they need to justify their vehicle purchases even though the pavement was far too warm for the wet snow to stick. (It crossed my mind to wonder how many slipped their transmissions into four wheel drive gear.)
The skiff of snow did its best to hide what might normally be seen and retrieved. Indeed, not a single scrap of anything was located in the first mile. That left me to sip coffee uninterrupted.
That abruptly changed along Fairview Road. My first find was a flattened water bottle at the entrance to Phillips Place and a few feet later was a chunk of car bumper from some unfortunate car-to-car encounter.
By the end of mile 2, the bag was nearly, but not quite, full. At this point, there was praise given to my new Yeti knock-off coffee mug that kept the morning joe hotter than expected. Sweet.
By the end of mile 3, my shoes made a squishy sound you might not normally associate with snow. A few chunks of polystyrene – likely wind blown across Sharon Road as residue from the same batch bagged Saturday morning – made the ‘must pick up’ list. And then it was on to home from there.
In all, it was a pleasantly sodden journey. It’s mornings like this when more praise is meted out; I thanked the good Lord aloud for the health to do such a sordid chore and for one more day above ground. At the front door was the Sunday New York Times (real news). Then it was time to nuke the remaining coffee and get some oatmeal started on the stove.
It’s already been a good day.