Monday, February 29, 2016

Snowing & Blowing

I heard from Lala that it was near 60 degrees in Milwaukee yesterday.  Not so here.  Here it got cloudier and cloudier until snow began to fall in mid-afternoon.  Not a lot, not really even enough to shovel, just enough to cover the dirty dregs of previous snows.  This morning it started blowing--hard.  At first I thought it was just blowing around yesterday's snow but it wasn't, it was snowing more.  Which means I'll be driving us home in the snow which I am gladder to be doing in the daylight.  I'd have been absolutely rigid with nerves if it'd been snowing and blowing when we drove up on Thursday night.  On a clear, dry night all of that dark was kind of thrilling, like a Hitchcock movie when you're all warm and safe.  If it had been snowing and blowing AND darker than a stack of black cats I'd have been silently freaking out the whole way.  I'd have kept going because I hate to let things get the better of me but I'd have been scared.  The second and third pictures are the edge of our little patio area on Friday morning and this morning.  Not a lot of snow cover, just enough to put that moss back into hiding.

I jumped the Leap Day knitting gun last night and cast on a Seamen's Church Institute Christmas at Sea cowl to work on while I binge-watched Season 6 of Downton Abbey on PBS.  For some of the watching I worked on part #2 of my design, after supper I started something new.  This is why I keep my set of Knit Picks Options Interchangeable Needles in my knitting basket.  All I had to do was pull out the half skein of rust heather yarn I bought at Bargains on Saturday, cast on 88 stitches, and knit away.  It's good, mindless TV knitting, which starting the next Sudoku square would have been too but I just can't face knitting another one of those squares right now.

February 29--Galen Rowell, Polar Bear w/Cubs.  They weren't really the same white as the snow.  The polar bears were a yellow white and snow is blue white.  Sue supposed in the gray light of an overcast day they'd be invisible, but on this sunny day they stood out, especially the big one standing over ten feet tall on its hind legs peering in the window of the snowcoach.  She was glad she hadn't been out on the viewing deck at the back when the bear ambled up to check them out.  Greg, the loudmouth, self-described "macho man" from Philly had swept three women out of his way to get back into the coach.  Some he-man he is, she though.  Maybe now he'd shut up about how brave and daring he was.

Now the sun's out.  Windy and sunny I don't mind, it's the blowing snow that I don't like.  Hasta la vista, babies.  Time to think about packing up... or maybe after lunch.

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