Really . . .!

"Must really say damn . . . "

I'm quoting, of course. Those are the words of the Dowager Duchess of Denver in the opening pages of Dorothy L. Sayers' immortal Busman's Honeymoon. They sprang to mind when I looked outside yesterday morning at the crab apple, rosy beneath the snow.

I had picked a bit of lilac for the kitchen window -- and beyond it I can see the parent bush with its heavy frosting. (Can anyone guess why an ex-English major would have planted a lilac by her front steps?)

In the afternoon the sun came out; the sky was blue; and the snow began to melt . . .

And then it began again. It was still snowing at 10 pm.

But I cheered myself up by rereading the email I had from Liz whose friends, recently returned from France, told her they saw my own La Montagne des Secrets (the French translation of Signs in the Blood) on sale in the grocery store.

I find that kinda cool. Unlike the weather, except in the literal sense.