Photos: Icicles on Natalia's house. Iryna (Ira), Luba's dear friend and mine, was with us when we sledded down Panfelova, so I want to save this memory. And looking up Komyzarov on my way home to Kyrova Street.
We’ve had a few almost warm days lately, and the snow and ice are melting, the icicles are falling off houses and buildings, and the sidewalks, paths and streets are full of water. Up to your ankles. I’ve heard the crash of icicles falling to the ground outside my window. Natalia’s house had some huge icicles hanging from the roof. Huge. No more. I was warned more than once to avoid them, with dire warnings of death. Ghastly images floated through my mind: death by icicle stabbing. "It fell right through her heart, poor soul." At first I didn’t take the warnings seriously, but now I know: it really is a danger, and deaths from falling icicles have been reported in Kyiv recently.
With the melting snow and ice, I am reminded once again that my warm, snuggly LandsEnd boots with the handy dandy yaktracks are great for ice and cold weather walking, but they are not waterproof. Not at all. A brief walk to the store from Natalia’s and I had water up to my knees. I sloshed back home in soaking wet boots and socks and cold feet.
Does this mean Spring is in the air. It’s a bit early here in Ukraine. We could still have freezing weather and more snow. But lately we’ve had the kind of temperatures that make you look for buds on the lilac bushes and tulips pushing through the ground. The days are getting longer, too, with that lovely dusky light at the end of the day before sunset and the moon rise.
I’m in no hurry, though. Going with the flow, literally and figuratively. It will be on to Prague this week, no matter what the weather, then to Western Ukraine: Lviv, Tourka, Uzhgorod, Slavsky for my PCV group 36 Close of Service conference. After that I'll go to Khargiv to visit Natalia's daughter Anna, studying at one of the famous universities there, and explore that city a bit.
We’ve had a few almost warm days lately, and the snow and ice are melting, the icicles are falling off houses and buildings, and the sidewalks, paths and streets are full of water. Up to your ankles. I’ve heard the crash of icicles falling to the ground outside my window. Natalia’s house had some huge icicles hanging from the roof. Huge. No more. I was warned more than once to avoid them, with dire warnings of death. Ghastly images floated through my mind: death by icicle stabbing. "It fell right through her heart, poor soul." At first I didn’t take the warnings seriously, but now I know: it really is a danger, and deaths from falling icicles have been reported in Kyiv recently.With the melting snow and ice, I am reminded once again that my warm, snuggly LandsEnd boots with the handy dandy yaktracks are great for ice and cold weather walking, but they are not waterproof. Not at all. A brief walk to the store from Natalia’s and I had water up to my knees. I sloshed back home in soaking wet boots and socks and cold feet.
Does this mean Spring is in the air. It’s a bit early here in Ukraine. We could still have freezing weather and more snow. But lately we’ve had the kind of temperatures that make you look for buds on the lilac bushes and tulips pushing through the ground. The days are getting longer, too, with that lovely dusky light at the end of the day before sunset and the moon rise.
I’m in no hurry, though. Going with the flow, literally and figuratively. It will be on to Prague this week, no matter what the weather, then to Western Ukraine: Lviv, Tourka, Uzhgorod, Slavsky for my PCV group 36 Close of Service conference. After that I'll go to Khargiv to visit Natalia's daughter Anna, studying at one of the famous universities there, and explore that city a bit.
When I return to Starobelsk at the beginning of March, then I’ll really start thinking Spring. Making a final trip to Kyiv. Going home, back to the States. Leaving my Ukrainian friends. Returning to a post-Peace Corps life. Our lives, like the seasons, always changing, always turning.
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