Apricity

The thin sheet of snow pops beneath the toes of my boots. There is a single streak of blue cracking the grey sky. And through that crack, the sun peeks.

The wind bites and snaps at my nose, dragging flurries along the ground in currents. I have to squint as the wind picks up, the water on my eyes feeling as though it's freezing.

And yet, in a weird contrast, my face burns with the heat of the sun. My skin bounces between freezing and boiling. The sun gently burns through the clouds, providing a small, yet noticeable warmth. As I walk along, with the snow popping, I turn my head as I go, warming one side of my face, then the other.

The sidewalk goes on, clean and white, with only my footprints behind me. I squint through the gleam of the sun on the snow, watching the path ahead.

It's likely the last snow of the season. Spring is creeping its way around the corner. A new year beginning to stir, and create its own identity. Eventually, the snow will melt into water, and mud. And here in Minnesota, the Spring usually leaps from snowy white to summer green, with only the briefest glimps of brown in the middle.

So for now, I enjoy feeling the snow pop under my boots. And feeling the warmth the sun stave the cold air.

Apparently, it's called "apricity." Not a word I'll use often.

But I can still use it now.