In the great Minnesota striptease--this March melt--we find a dead pigeon in our backyard, a lime green tennis ball, and last season's Christmas tree stuck in a blue bucket with orange halves tied to its branches. We tip over the pools of melted snow from the yellow and red slides lying scattered around our back yard.
My husband climbs the old metal ladder and clears out the gutters before the Sunday storm. I wince from the top bedroom as I hear him clang the safety clip against the high rungs. He shopvacs the car rugs and I fit the lids on tight to the alley garbage cans before coming in for the night.
C'mon rain. We're ready now.
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