It’s spring in Montreal. The trees are blossoming, the bushes are lushly green, and I had to shovel four inches of snow of my car this morning.
It snowed all day yesterday and a good portion of the night. The thumps of snow and slush falling from the tree above our skylight sounded like tennis balls as they hit the glass.
Every road seems to have one good-sized tree branch sprawled across the sidewalk.
But nobody cares, because tonight the hometown Habs stand a good chance if achieving the highly improbable.
