The snow this week did not offer any magic. Even though it was deep and light and soft, it was also cold and still felt like walls. Until today when there were stripes of dirty, slushy, half melted grey mess and salt stains everywhere and white patches around sidewalk trees and climbing up the hill by the museum. I remember a time in college when the whole campus was covered in snow for weeks on end. It never quite melted and then it would get recovered over and over and on that first day when it started to melt you could hear the water move and ripple down paved corners. It's not quite like that here but I appreciate the dirt (again). I see the dirt, today, as not something that brings color and beauty but just dirt. Humble and ordinary and more fitting than all that bright fluffy snow.