Third Sundays Continue, With This One About Snow

Here in Indiana the cold snap has ended — for now. And no doubt things are better in Texas now too, though their independent, regulation-free electricity may still be out on vacation. Hereabouts, too, snow (white, not smog-colored) remains on the ground, but is beginning to melt away. About eight to twelve inches, though, when it was new.

And it was nice, but then we did have heat for holing up indoors.

So the Bloomington Writers Guild continues too, including its Facebook-powered-for-the-duration version of Third Sunday Write (cf. September 30, et al.), with one of the prompts this time about, yes, snow. So, while I’m not reporting these things in anything like a regular manner, this one seems timely. Along with a touch of some of the week’s other news.

The prompt: #2 “Tell us about snow but don’t use the words: snow, white, powder, ice, flake, blanket “

And thus the reply: What’s this? Suddenly falling out of the sky, sort of like that airplane belching engine parts all over Colorado, but this is smaller. Like really, really little pieces — and not a silvery color either, like airplane parts ought to be, but lighter. Much lighter! Like a really light gray, and this is Texas, too, not Colorado. ‘Course we’re closer to the ground here, not like in the mountains, so maybe airplane parts would have time to break up into smaller pieces. But kind of like floating too — falling real slowly — and about the color, even a lighter gray than the air with its oil and gas soot.

I did say this is Texas.

But this stuff’s a new one on me, I’ll tell you. It’s all over the ground, on roofs and lawns. Even on cars. And it’s cold when you touch it — or it touches you, it’s falling like that all over the place, so you can’t dodge out of the way. Even in Texas, as big as the state is — you can’t escape it! There’s never been anything like it before. And cold, too, like I say, as cold as houses now that we don’t have electricity any more. Because of the wind things, the Governor told us. Like maybe they’re what’s blowing it all around.

But it’s still a mystery. Cold. Paler than Texas smog. As thick as dust — but with one good thing about it too. I’d put a pot out and some fell in it as well, so I took it back with me into the heated car, where me and the family’ve been living, and know what?

The darned stuff then turned into water!