White tree blossoms against a blue sky…cotton balls in a blue sea…vanilla ice cream and blueberries…blue glass plates and cups of cold, white milk…white glue and blue crayons…and at the end of the afternoon we welcome in a rush of grey graupel.
Graupel. It’s the unfamiliar wintry precipitation; that lovely and strange cross-over between seasons cold stuff sifting down from the sky; winnowing earthward as if we were all dwelling on top of a very large doughnut. It could be precipitation. It might be powdered sugar. Soft hail, hominy snow; forming when super cooled water droplets collect and freeze on top of falling snowflakes; creating the lovely sort of strange late April meteorological happenstance which surprises us all and often leads to lengthy and refreshing napping.
690 Saint Paul 