Wednesday, March 21, 2012

The Dead of Winter

This year snow in New York was topped by the bitter bone-numbing cold of January and February. A few snow flurries had dusted the sidewalks of Clinton Hill during my trip to Thailand, but the weather was sunny and in the 50s yesterday. Today's temperature are predicted by weather to reach the 60s and I made a bet with AP, the seer of Fort Greene, about the prospects of another snow storm.

"My bones feel another blizzard for April," I forecasted from my room at 387.

"Flowers are sprouting acrosss Fort Greene. $10 on no snow." AP was drinking a good Frnech wine to accompany the two pounds of oysters I had bought at the fish market from Bobby, the fishmonger.

"Not a chance." I walked out on the back porch. AP's loving wife was working on her plants. Jounquils had already dusted the earth. Ornamewntal pears at white overheada clouds. More flowers were to come and AP looked at the sky.

Not a cloud in sight.

"You still wanna bet?" AP loved the snow. He was a good skier. His family had planned a school holiday for St. Patrick's Day.

"Four inches by the end of April."

"You have to be kidding." I was from New England. My aunt and uncle in Marblehead had phoned in the morning to praise the warm weather. There was no snow on the ground at my niece's house in upper Maine, although the top of Mount Katahdin was covered by a seasonal glacier. Her husband worked in the forest. They had snow up there, but not on her lawn.

"I'll back it up with $20." AP had two kids. A tenner cut into his allowance as deeply as mine, but I confidently backed up my mouth. "I'll take your twenty."

We shook hands and he finished off the rest of the bottle.

It was pretty crappy wine, but then what can a wino expect for $4?

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