A Californian does not believe in snow devils. But in the land of the North, the wind picks up and blows them across.
Dust devils, yes. Snow devils, no.
I walked across the sidewalk, the wind picking up and blowing the snow every direction. The trees shook at me, the sidewalk, the passersby, snow glinting in their eyes and mine. The snow, perfect powder. The snow burning in its wake.
The sidewalk falls and rises under the snow, feet unsure for ice, looking for the green glint of salt.
It’s a Northern wild in the most urban of streets and I can only thank (and think) Los Angeles that I’m back in Michigan.
Welcome to the North.