Rain

It's raining outside this morning. As I look out my window, I hear the tires shushing on the wet roads, hitting puddles. I think to myself it looks like Vancouver, except dirtyer. Now all the filth from months of sand trucks and salt is all bare. The ice is gone for the most part, and the garbage is left. Dirty streets, dirty windows, dirty everything. The rain is welcome, as it washes away the crud. It signifies to me that winter has lost her hold. She is dying and gone. Rain means new life. The grass will be green soon. The town will be alive again. I look forward to walking around at the forks, where the Assinaboine River pours into the Red River. I wonder if it will flood again this year? They say it wont, but then "They" have been wrong before. In fact I think that's what I will do this morning. I think I will go down to the Forks.