bookmark_borderSnow Part Two

In case you haven’t figured it out, it is snowing here. It did off and on all day but typical for this time of the year, it didn’t lay. Even when it did kind of stick around, it only did so for a half hour tops. Then as the sun started going down, so did the temps. At the same time, the storm front finally realized it was supposed to be doing something and chose to do so.

Right now it is 18F with a windchill of 0F, according to WeatherWatcher. A local weather monitor and it says it is 13F. In other words, it is kinda cold here.

I’ve not looked outside in a while, the wind is just too sharp, but last Lorna looked we had about 1.5″ or so. Joella, my rottweiler, went out to do her business and came back looking like a Great Pyrenees!

Got some writing done, not much. Tried an idea out on The Graced but I don’t think it will work.

bookmark_borderSnow

The snow comes down in a noisy silence like sand in an hourglass.

We can put a man on the moon. We can put robots on Mars and control them from Earth. But when it snows, we slow down, get quiet, even downright fretful.

Is it because it is out of our control?

Is it that the silence demands it? Shouting at the top of its crystalline lungs?

No, it’s because we fear it. One moment, soft, fluffy, full of childhood innocence. It sneaks up behind us and gives us a push. We grip the steering wheel hard enough that our fingers ache. Then, slip, slide, bam, boom. Or our legs get tight, stiff as we try to walk and not fall on our butts.

Those of use who live in the Appalachians have no choice but to fear it. We don’t measure it in light years, or miles, or kilometers, or even meters. No, we measure it in inches. Tiny little inches. We freak at an inch, two. Heaven forbid it get over two. The world is coming to an end if it is anything over six!

The snow comes down in a noisy silence like sand in an hourglass.