The day after the storm

Today, squealing neighborhood children slide and screamed down our ice-crusted street, one of Portland’s steepest.

At the bottom of the glazed skid, vigilant parents stomped away the cold between careening downhill runs. Then, clusters of children spinning their way, they stood poised to hurl themselves between kids and cars, walls and the neighbor’s looming, foot-of-the-hill garage.

From my kitchen window, I briefly considered my liability, escape clauses in my insurance policy and vulnerability to litigation.

Winter exposure.

Among my neighbors are parent/attorneys.

Many parent/attorneys. Good neighbors. Nice people.

The laughter of their children — of all the children — brushed aside my worry.

Later, transporting mandarin rinds and banana peels to our compost bin, I discovered Sunday’s storm had spread a cloth over the patio table. Snow padded our mesh metal chairs with frosted white cushions.

A summer setting in December. A trick in time.