Slow Resurrection

I'm back in Russia now. I had a wonderful trip, but writing about it will have to wait for another time when I have more time. Isn't it strange how that works?

It warmed up around Moscow while I was away. I was beginning to wonder if Spring would ever really come, or if I'd just be destined to continue to wear snowboots and giant parka everywhere I go until getting back to the States in June. The sun was out and shining in all its glory on for the first few days this week. It felt wonderful, even though it's still chilly outside. There's still snow on the ground, but there are patches where it's melted away. I even saw a tiny bit of green grass growing by the road as I was walking to school the other day. It's rained the past few days, but I was still so happy because when it's raining, it means that it's not snowing.

Apparently, I am not the only one anxiously awaiting Springs arrival. I'd never seen anyone water- yes, water with a hose- snow until moving to Russia. However, I've now seen snow be water numerous times. I've frequently looked out my apartment window at breakfast or in the evenings only to see one of the maintainace guys standing with a hose, spraying down the giant piles of snow in our courtyard in an almost desperate attempt to melt them away. If they aren't hosing them down, they're usually out there punching large holes in them with snow shovles. If I've learned one thing about Russians since getting here, it's that they will go to almost any lengths to get rid of something they don't want, be it snow or the sniffles.