At least we’re not in New England
What more can I say about winter, other than it’s too long, too cold and I
can’t imagine how people can live in places where it’s like this six or seven
months a year. Even if the roads are kept clear as snow piles up higher and
higher.
I really shouldn’t complain about our winter compared to what the poor folks of the Northeast and New England are experiencing. We’re enjoying a positively balmy 0 F wind chill, while they’re still measuring anticipated snowfall in feet and their thermometers refuse to work. Some of the ones who can get out have been booking flights to Antarctica for the warmer climate.
Friends up that way have posted pictures and videos online of the winter of ’15. Remember the movie The Day After Tomorrow, in which most of the world turns into a giant ice cube in an instant? (I won’t be disappointed if you don’t.) That’s what their images look like to me. The only thing missing is the Statue of Liberty turned into a glacier.
But there’s still three weeks of winter, so who knows what’s likely to happen.
One of our friends up Massachusetts way made a video showing her back yard during one of the recent snow storms. This was after about three or four snowfalls. It looked like there should have been polar bears wandering across the lawn. A shot out her front door revealed that the snow was even with her porch, and buried the several steps leading up to it. Step off the porch and you’d probably sink past your head.
Another friend sent a photo of the beach near West Hyannisport. White snow, not sand, as far as you could see, and the ocean just looked frigid.
A friend in New Hampshire posted a picture that showed no matter what Old Man Winter dumps on them, the roads stay clear. Sure enough, the road in front of her house was spotless, free of anything resembling precipitation. Of course the snow looked head-high to Shaquille O’Neal, but the road was clear.
This is an unusual winter for them. It’s been an unusual winter for most of us. Persimmons last fall didn’t have knives, forks or spoons when you cut them open, but there were tiny parkas in their seeds which really was the sign of an apocalyptic-like winter. Shoot, it even dropped to 45 degrees in Miami and they nearly had a run on bread and milk.
Even people used to months of winter are getting tired of it this year. I’ve got my money on climate change being the cause; either that or Ming the Merciless is trying out his freeze ray against Earth again. (Where’s Flash Gordon when we need him?)
Even with a largely acceptable winter until the last few weeks, I’ve still found myself dreaming of warmer locations. I see these commercials for these beautiful beach resorts, and it’s hard not to drool over exotic locales. While I might not be up to frolicking in the surf and soaking up rays, I love long walks on the beach, and no one can hold down a chaise lounge while taking in the gorgeous scenery like me.
It beats freezing to a metal patio chair next to an ice-covered fire pit while gazing upon a snow-soaked pasture, that will turn into just a soaked bog when temperatures get back to being a little more normal.
Meanwhile, we can just keep telling ourselves spring is only three weeks away ... only three more weeks ... just three weeks until spring ...
I really shouldn’t complain about our winter compared to what the poor folks of the Northeast and New England are experiencing. We’re enjoying a positively balmy 0 F wind chill, while they’re still measuring anticipated snowfall in feet and their thermometers refuse to work. Some of the ones who can get out have been booking flights to Antarctica for the warmer climate.
Friends up that way have posted pictures and videos online of the winter of ’15. Remember the movie The Day After Tomorrow, in which most of the world turns into a giant ice cube in an instant? (I won’t be disappointed if you don’t.) That’s what their images look like to me. The only thing missing is the Statue of Liberty turned into a glacier.
But there’s still three weeks of winter, so who knows what’s likely to happen.
One of our friends up Massachusetts way made a video showing her back yard during one of the recent snow storms. This was after about three or four snowfalls. It looked like there should have been polar bears wandering across the lawn. A shot out her front door revealed that the snow was even with her porch, and buried the several steps leading up to it. Step off the porch and you’d probably sink past your head.
Another friend sent a photo of the beach near West Hyannisport. White snow, not sand, as far as you could see, and the ocean just looked frigid.
A friend in New Hampshire posted a picture that showed no matter what Old Man Winter dumps on them, the roads stay clear. Sure enough, the road in front of her house was spotless, free of anything resembling precipitation. Of course the snow looked head-high to Shaquille O’Neal, but the road was clear.
This is an unusual winter for them. It’s been an unusual winter for most of us. Persimmons last fall didn’t have knives, forks or spoons when you cut them open, but there were tiny parkas in their seeds which really was the sign of an apocalyptic-like winter. Shoot, it even dropped to 45 degrees in Miami and they nearly had a run on bread and milk.
Even people used to months of winter are getting tired of it this year. I’ve got my money on climate change being the cause; either that or Ming the Merciless is trying out his freeze ray against Earth again. (Where’s Flash Gordon when we need him?)
Even with a largely acceptable winter until the last few weeks, I’ve still found myself dreaming of warmer locations. I see these commercials for these beautiful beach resorts, and it’s hard not to drool over exotic locales. While I might not be up to frolicking in the surf and soaking up rays, I love long walks on the beach, and no one can hold down a chaise lounge while taking in the gorgeous scenery like me.
It beats freezing to a metal patio chair next to an ice-covered fire pit while gazing upon a snow-soaked pasture, that will turn into just a soaked bog when temperatures get back to being a little more normal.
Meanwhile, we can just keep telling ourselves spring is only three weeks away ... only three more weeks ... just three weeks until spring ...
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