Showing posts with label spring. Show all posts
Showing posts with label spring. Show all posts

Monday, March 10, 2014

Take Me Out to the Snow Pile!

Opening day is in less than four weeks.

The field is covered in snow, massive piles of snow from infield to out. It seems that last week someone in the main office looked out from their window to the snow covered mess below and said "Good Lord, we've got to play baseball out there".  Last week the plows came.

They started digging out, piling mounds of snow onto the sidewalk on Sheffield.


The neighbors complained. Crossing the street proved to be far too difficult for those who chose to live in the immediate shadow of a major league ballpark and so today the piles were being moved, by huge snow moving machine, closer to the wall, so as not to inconvenience anyone for one more day. Given that temperatures around Wrigley are, today, in the upper 40s, I think I would cross the street simply to avoid a small avalanche.

Enormous piles of snow,  taken today from the field, were being dumped into The Snow Melter, that small yellow thing below, which miraculously melted the snow and funneled the resulting water into the drain at the corner of Sheffield and Waveland. The 12 or so men and women hired to direct traffic around this event appeared to be fascinated with the concept of melting snow, as were those walking by, all slowing for a close look before being forced to cross the street (on which side sits the train to take them to work). Such risk, what with that wall of snow precariously placed so close to the sidewalk, to watch snow melt.


In all fairness it's rather a novel idea around here, melting snow.

Six to eight inches forecasted for the city Wednesday, in the winter that will never end.


Monday, May 6, 2013

Wonderful Childhood Memories


My Weekend*

A May day in all those years before, I'm looking out the window, yelling "yea! 50 degrees Fahrenheit!". Mary joins me as I scream and she starts chanting, "Ice cream!". As funny as it is, that's how May days in my young years were like, Mom yelling, "it's so warm, Jack, hand me a margarita!".

-Kate, Age 7

*Excerpt from Kate's daily school diary, turned in to her second grade teacher on a May Monday 







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