|Lydia and I, hiking on the east side of Mt. Timpanogos.|
There is something about yards-deep snow on a 90-degree day that I can't quite comprehend. Shouldn't it be—oh, I don't know—melting or something?
I know this winter's was a record-breaking snowfall. I know the eastern slopes of mountains don't get as much sun exposure. And I know the snow is melting, but the runoff occurs under the snowpack and out of sight.
Add up all the facts—and still! wading through snow in shorts does not compute in this prairie-raised brain. It's a humdinger to Midwestern me, but a matter of routine in Utah. Like fry sauce. And billboards advertising modest clothing. And church steeples every few blocks, all void of a cross. Many Utah anomalies I gladly adapt to. Some: I pray I never do.