Weather forecasts told us the rain would freeze, that sleet and snow would fall, so in anticipation of being sidelined today, I went for a jog yesterday in what I thought was light rain.
Not for long. As I ran, the rain grew heavier and colder, it took on substance. It didn’t hollow out so much as beef up. It meant business.
This was not January’s fluffy stuff. This snow has clung and settled. It has hemmed me in — at least for the morning.
But afternoon is almost here.
These are cold days in Northern Virginia (emphasis on Northern)! A person (or a dog) might have every reason to bound out the door, trot across the deck but then screech to a full stop at the top of the stairs.
Hesitation is in season.
“Do I really want to go out in this?”is what I imagine Copper is thinking.
Which is similar to my thoughts this morning: It’s 6 a.m., 4 degrees F. — and, of course, it’s dark. “Do I really want to go out in this?”
And the answer, for both of us, for different reasons, is yes!
Yesterday’s snow meant business. Right from the start, the flakes flying only briefly before they touched and stuck. And unlike recent, more iffy snows, this one light, dry, easier to shovel and scrape.
It piled up slowly but inexorably, and by late afternoon, snow on the deck railing looked about three to four inches. After several more hours of steady precipitation (minus a little from the blowing), this morning’s total looks closer to six. And if today’s temperature is any indication (3 degrees F), it will be with us for a few days.
Gee, I guess it’s winter or something. It hasn’t been for a years, so we’re out of practice.
Living in a company town produces some funny situations. Like today. The federal government is closed and so is my university. No complaints there, although deadlines being deadlines, I’ll be working anyway.
The funny thing is the unanimity of opinion. And the reliance on experts, in this case meteorologists. There’s not a flake of snow flying but we’re all hunkered down. The reason, of course, is traffic. In the last few years late-breaking snow storms have produced jams of biblical proportions, people arriving home seven, eight hours after they left for what they thought would be an hour-long commute.
So we’re taking no chances. We’re playing it safe. We’re grinding the wheels of government and commerce to a halt. We’re calling it a snow day.
Now all we need is the snow!
–>
Yesterday morning we woke to a frozen world, each bough and twig coated and gleaming. By 1 p.m. it was 33 degrees, and I could slide to the corner, where the pavement was wet but not icy. I could run the main road, could see how many trees were damaged during the storm.
Ice is beautiful but dangerous. How much would we pay for such beauty? Not another red oak, that’s for sure — but some bent bamboo stalks, I would gladly trade those to walk through such a strange, glittering, dripping world.
A new day now and fresh snow is falling. We have several inches on the ground and, more to the point, a heavy layer on every branch, bough and twig. It’s no longer a hard, bright, frozen world, it’s a soft, white, feathery one.
But I know the ice that lurks beneath.
We’ve had more than our usual share of flurries this winter. Snow without purpose, not driven, not sticking much, just dancing in the air.
One minute the day lightens, the next it grays, and then … it’s white out (though not whiteout).
This is snow-globe snow, decorative, ornamental, does not mean business. It could be lint from an errant dryer. Or ash from a meddlesome volcano. Or bits of fluff from a cottonwood tree.
But no, it is snow. It melts on the tongue. It coats my hair when I walk through it, which I did yesterday.
Flurries are difficult to photograph. They are ephemeral. It is part of their charm.
After several futile forecasts yielding nothing, we woke up this morning to a white world. Not quite an inch yet but it’s still falling and roads are cold enough that every flake is sticking.
Maybe weather-watchers knew this snow was on the way, but I didn’t, so I felt like a kid this morning when I glanced outside, saw the white coating on the deck, the flurries in the air. For just a minute I felt that leap in the heart: No school today! No school!
And then I remembered: I don’t go to school anymore. I go to work. And yes, we are having work today.
(We didn’t receive quite this much! This is an old photo…)
Because the real thing continues to elude us. Because we are either too far south, too far east or (this time) too far north. (Hard to wrap my head around that one.)
Because the last time we had two inches of snow was almost two years ago, here is a picture of what it was like in the old days.
We have more than virtual snow, however. We have that acrid taste in the air when snow is near. And we have the cold air behind the front. Cold air that pushed the clouds away and gave us back the sun.
