Black driveway. White snow. Spring knocking at our door.

I saw it starting just as my dear wife, Karen, was pulling into the driveway after work yesterday.

It stayed in the corner of my right eye from a window in our living room as we went about our evening ways.

The weather guy on the 11 o’clock news talked all about it.

When Dogamous Pyle, better known as Ellie B, woke me for her early morning backyard needs, there it was again.

I slipper-toed it off the top step of the porch. There lied the truth and reality of it all. Sure, spring is on our doorstep in Syracuse. That doesn’t excuse us from winter’s remains.

Snow. As wet as it was white. Heavy.

A couple hours later, Karen was in the final quarter-hour of her morning march toward work. Stay in bed, she advised. I’ll handle it.

Not to be.

I slipped into last night’s clothes. Stuck my feet into my warm boots. Grabbed both sets of car keys and headed out front to brush and scrape until both vehicles were visibly clear on the outside and toasty warm on the inside.

Smooch. Steak out of the back freezer, check. Oven on 375, poke the sweet potatoes five times with a fork and put em in the oven at 5, check. Sure, I’ll head to the store to buy a salad today. Bye, honey. Have a good day.

Will it stay or will it go on its own?

Doesn’t feel too melty out.

Push shovel clears the driveway. Good neighbor Tim shows off his new toy, a spiffy red snowblower, and tells me I should retire my manual snow-clearer, too.

Maybe next year, says I.

For now, the driveway is black and the snow piles astride it are only ankle-high, not at the knee. I like the look of it. Spring is coming. More snow is in the forecast to the weekend. No matter. It’s comfortable, this bye-to-winter routine.