A snow jubilee

I met a fellow cruncher today on the sidewalk. I was headed west, backpack full of impulse groceries (never shop when hungry) after a quick trip to get some flour. He was headed east. The sidewalk was clear in that section, surprisingly, and wide enough for two people to comfortably walk side-by-side without worrying about ice or snow. My toes were cold and my fingers too, high humidity probably, so I kept to the middle of the sidewalk, listening to my empty water bottle clink against the basil jar that I use to cart around sugar for tea. And then he came towards me, head down, hat and coat bundled securely, hands in his pockets. He walked unnecessarily close to the edge of the sidewalk, towards the still frozen bank of snow with its constant edge of melting ice. With every step his left toes came down at a little angle crunch before a right foot on the concrete before another toe-led step crunch chipping away tiny bits of ice crunch or smashing to smithereens the chunks already broken off crunch. He passed me in a heartbeat that fluttered with excitement. I've never met another cruncher, never seen one from afar. I thought I was alone in the slightly obsessive need to make the snow crumble as I walk, to hear my domination over the elements. I know now I am not alone. But does he?