Spring Fever, Part Deux

So you know how I was talking about how awesome spring is when it comes to northern France? Scratch all that. Spring is the product of an evil, mocking God. It's as if Persephone keeps telling Demeter that she'll be out in a minute, really, just let her finish up one or two things, she's on her way, she promises, and Demeter sort of thinks that possibly Persephone is delaying her on purpose because she's busy losing her virginity to the Lord of Death, making her (Demeter) behave like some sort of manic depressive alcoholic psychopath, all throwing empty bottles around the room and having hysterics about ungrateful children and how they expect everything from you and then leave you with nothing and don't care about your feelings even though you slept with your little brother and gave birth to them for heaven's sake.

So we had that lovely sunny weather. Then it rained. Normal.

Then it snowed. The third snowfall we've had this year. Then it cleared up. Then it rained some more. Then it half cleared again, then it SLEETED. Then it sleeted some more. Then it poured rain. Then it cleared up and looked pretty.

Did I mention that that whole description of the weather is a description of what the weather has done since eight o'clock this morning? I thought living up in the mountains I'd seen it all, like the one time junior year when snow came crisply and beautifully down out of a completely clear blue sky. But as temperamental as the weather in a high desert area can be, it at least has the benefit of being relatively dry most of the time. And it is extremely annoying to have to change clothes three times a day, and then get caught with no overcoat while it is sleeting, because when you left the house half an hour ago, it was half clear and sunny and you didn't need an overcoat.

Sigh. At least my boots remain my (waterproof) touchstone.