Somebody really loves Bill. As philliefan99‘s picture makes abundantly clear, some lovestruck individual took the time to declare his or her love for Bill in the fleeting medium of a snowbank. But is there a contradictory message to declaring one’s love in the snow? Is love recorded by this ephemeral expression truly love, or merely a passing infatuation that will melt away (hopefully before March)?

There’s only one person who can say with any authority: Bill. In sonnet 97, Bill (Shakespeare) suggests that feeling his love’s absence even during the full bounty of summer, the “wanton burden of the prime,” is crueler than the worst snowpocalypse. Describing his “time removed,” Shakespeare says that rich summer is merely a fleeting hint at the winter to come if you’re not spending it with someone you love. So why can’t slushy snow stand as a testament to the warmth of luurrve?