Browsed by
Category: weather

Urban Trail

Urban Trail

Comments 0 Comment

Ellen and I met for brunch in Bethesda yesterday — our favorite meeting place between Annapolis and Reston — and afterward I slipped on my tennis shoes, took off my scarf and jacket and walked four miles on the Capital Crescent Trail, one of my favorite urban walks.

It was 70 degrees, and the path was clogged with joggers and strollers and bikers and dogs. A carnival atmosphere — and everyone in amazement that we could wear shorts and t-shirts instead of parkas and gloves.

What to say about such an amble and such an afternoon? Only that it was filled with the life force, was virtually overflowing with it. And everyone I saw — whether zooming by on a bicycle or being pushed in a wheelchair — seemed to feel the same way.

Snow in Place

Snow in Place

Comments 0 Comment

A white world this morning. The snow behaved itself, stuck to grass and trees and lampposts — and left the streets alone. So I could drive along wintry ways with scenery softened by the snow and made beautiful by it.

It didn’t take much to transform: less than an inch. But what a difference it made. How calm and lovely the passage from place to place.

Here we are at the end of January. We could (fingers crossed) escape without a blizzard. I’ll be content if a few small pretty snows are all we have. Just a soupçon of winter this year, thank you very much.

Shadow Commuters

Shadow Commuters

Comments 0 Comment

Since Friday, we have been in the deep freeze, with temperatures in the teens or lower. I’m remembering all over again why I no longer live in Chicago. There, the deep freeze was the norm. Here it’s the exception.

Working in Crystal City, though, I have a secret weapon: the Underground. One of its passageways leads from Metro to the building across the street from my office. It’s a little longer as the crow flies, but ever so much warmer.

I notice now a definite uptick in the number of Underground pedestrians, people like me, scampering in the warmth, eschewing the wind and cold.

There we were, dressed for the chill in boots, scarves and gloves — walking down what is essentially a hallway. Are we shadow commuters, or the real thing?

South Wind

South Wind

Comments 0 Comment

From yesterday’s ice storm to this morning’s fog. Air filled with the promise of robins. A warm breeze, a freshet, a stowaway on the south wind. 

Inside, the tree has gained gravitas. Its low branches have settled and the ornaments are on. 
Outside, the trees are bare and bending. There is so much still they have to tell us. 
What will it be?
Winter Lite

Winter Lite

Comments 0 Comment

This morning, a brisk wind rattled the Christmas lights and banged them against the side of the house. Their rat-a-tat-tat was an errant percussion to the howling west wind. “Haven’t you heard?” they seemed to be saying, “it’s winter.”

Yeah, we’ve heard. It’s a little early, though, don’t you think? We’re not supposed to be this cold till January.

I liked yesterday’s upper 40s. A seasonable tang in the air, but still warm enough to bounce on the trampoline after dark.

In other words, I prefer winter lite. Just right for caroling, shopping and running holiday errands — but no single-digit wind chills, thank you very much!

The Wind Today

The Wind Today

Comments 0 Comment

The wind is unsettling and brave. It rattles pipes and the branches. It shakes leaves from the trees. It is used to having its way. You might even say it is a bully, but that would not be fair.

The wind today is like rain, blowing with such intensity that I want to brush it out of my hair and eyes. I come inside from picking up the newspaper surprised to be dry.

I tried to take a picture of the wind, of the leaves swirling in its wake. This is all I could manage.

Should I walk now or wait? Wait, I think. It is difficult to be calm when branches are bending and air swirls around you in gusts and eddies. Best to hunker down with a good book and a cup of tea.

Before the Storm

Before the Storm

Comments 0 Comment

Today we send our thoughts southward to Florida, which braces itself for Hurricane Matthew.

I’ve grown fond of the Sunshine State, have reveled in its west coast beaches and marveled at its subtropical clime. And now I feel downright protective as it faces a category 4 storm.

Florida seems a large part water anyway, with its swamps and lagoons. How can it withstand this without serious damage to its roads and homes and shores?

I’m sending sunny thoughts Florida’s way, in hopes that this passes quickly, that damage is minimal and the sun soon shines again.

Things to Come

Things to Come

Comments 0 Comment

Well, the jig is up. The summer jig, that is. It’s in the 50s as  I write these words on the deck, swaddled in my warm winter robe, the fuzzy white one. No slippers, only my outside crocs. I could use a pair of fuzzy socks, too.

Copper, however, is in his element, prancing in the bars of sunlight that stripe the back yard at this time of day and year.

He responds just to the weather at hand, which, if it were the prelude to a hot summer day, would be just fine, no problem. But I know what he doesn’t: that this is just the beginning of the chill, that there will be rain and snow and early darkness.

Sometimes I long for an animal brain.

Indolence

Indolence

Comments 0 Comment

The afternoon was too warm for a walk, but I pressed on anyway. By the time I’d finished, thunder was rumbling in the distance.

The weather here follows its own tropical rhythm. Bright blue mornings and dark blue afternoons. It’s the perfect excuse for indolence.

There’s only so much you can do when it’s this hot. And there’s only so much you can do when rain is pounding the beach and wind is bending the palms.

And so, you do very little. Or try to.

It works pretty well most of the time.

(This lazy canal says it all.)

Dew Point

Dew Point

Comments 0 Comment

The technical definition of dew point is the temperature to which air must be cooled in order to reach saturation. My weather sources tell me that dew point is a more accurate measure of moisture in the air than relative humidity. A dew point of 60 is comfortable; a dew point of 70 is not.

But I like the sounds of the words, both alone and together. Dew. Point. Dew point.

And I like the images they connote: A summer lawn glistening with moisture. A summer evening filled with cricket and katydid song. A summer morning dash in my nightgown for the newspaper. It’s covered with moisture. I shake off the plastic bag before pulling out the paper to read.

Before I’m saturated with the day, I’m saturated with the dew. That’s my dew point.