Just 1.5 degrees this morning at 6:30 AM at the Aerie. Of course our hillside location usually provides us with slightly warmer temps than those done in the valley. (Cold air sinks, don't cha know.) Elmira reports MINUS 8. By far this is the coldest to date this season.
We--and the eastern seaboard--are staring down the barrel at another HUGE snow storm for the middle of next week. Could be as big as the Christmas storm. Could reach further inland so as to impact the Aerie. We shall see.
Terry says a guy on the Today Show puts thins in perspective: We still have 60% of the snow season to go. *sigh*
Now don't get me wrong. I like snow. I enjoy the clean, crisp cold air. I am immersed in the soft silence that descends upon the world as the flakes fall. The blanket of white looks so pristine and soft as it lays upon the landscape. I thrill to the squeak as the icy snow is crunched beneath the soles of my boots. I marvel at the beautifully sculpted curves of the wind blown drifts. i enjoy attempting to read the night moves of the local fauna in the tracks they leave behind on the fresh slate each night.
It's the having to move the stuff out of the way so we can get out that troubles me. That and the monotony that eventually comes into play. When the white on the ground, the white of the birch bark, the gray of the other tree trunks, and, on days when the clouds roll in, the leaden sky fuses land and sky into shades of gray. When the lack of real color save from the green of the pines and firs and the occasional red of a male cardinal makes you wonder if you've lost part of your ability to see. That's what begins to bug me about winter.
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