Pretty on 2/2

It was a beautiful morning here in my corner of Pittsburgh on the second day of February.

After day upon day of gray, cloudy skies, early morning sunlight beamed through, painting clouds pink against blue sky.

Twist and I had a lovely walk; it seemed like spring the air was so warm and full of birds singing.

As the day waned, though, so did the weather and by about two, the slab of gray overhead had returned, snowflakes were flying and the air was freezing. I watched misery return from my office window Downtown, where I had hung up my short coat nowhere near long enough to cover me for the trip home.

Despite the change in barometric pressure and precipitation, Twist and I had another lovely walk at dusk.

The wind wasn't gusting too hard and swirls of flakes slipped back and forth across the black asphalt, changing in formation from flame to tail to spiral, then vanishing altogether before gathering together again under the wind's direction.

It's not easy to appreciate this beauty; I usually take the easy way out and take it for granted, or take it not at all.

But February really forces your hand. You can be totally cranky-bitter till the end of March, or soldier on, like the valiant Northerner you are, poured into and forged from the same mold mold Calvin's crazy bike-riding Dad.

I tend to fall into to the cranky-bitter mold, myself, but, hey, had an off day today.

So, beautiful today and I'll live with tomorrow, tomorrow.

Happy Birthday

This has to go into the books as an unremarkable birthday, except that I slept too late. There might be a bit of symmetry there if I could remember my mother ever telling me that I arrived in this world early, late or just about on time. Perhaps a remarkable aspect of me is that I can be all three. I am never perpetually late, early or just about on time.

I prefer to mix things up; it's the Aquarian in me.

Back to the birthday. It could not even be called remarkable in that it was defined by 2 and 3 feet high drifts of snow outside, because, after, all it is February in a northern climate even though such heavy falls are less common now then when I was younger.

What could be remarkable is that, except for shoveling snow, I take the dreary weather of my birth month with much more equanimity now that I am older, or as singer-songwriter-actor Loudon Wainwright III (63) told Terri Gross in an interview on "Fresh Air" this afternoon, "closer to the end."

I'm not a particular fan of LWJ, but I enjoyed the interview because Terri Gross asks good questions; for example wondering what it was like for him to revisit songs he had written as a young and very different man, singing with a much younger voice. I don't recall the answer; I just was struck by the empathy the question evoked in me, because I feel like such a completely different person from young Katy. The journey hasn't always been easy, but it has been interesting. I've learned a lot that has helped me to be, I hope, a better person.

There are 50 minutes left in my birthday. Snow is falling and time is passing, softening all hard edges.