Effluvia.

Late March snowstorms bring down power lines and cause administrators to furrow their fuzzy brows and relent: when it comes down at 2 inches per hour it’s best to let out at 1 pm. So goes the tradition. This is what I’m hoping will happen at least.

I like abominations in weather patterns. Blizzards in early September, tornadoes in February, spring days in the mountains when it’s 80 degrees fifteen minutes after a snow/hail/thunderstorm rushes off the nearest ridge and drags shadows over everything.

Abominations in weather patterns line up with the recurrent feeling of late that the veneer of order and sense the world obtains is slowly stripping off. Not only are things stopping to make sense, but it’s increasingly becoming apparent that the appearance of sense they used to retain was a willful projection based on personal need. Or not. I don’t know. I’m just talking about snow.

The principal just came over the intercom and announced school is over at 1 pm and we have no school tomorrow.