This weather has me singing “What a difference a day makes, twenty-four little hours…”
Wednesday:
Thursday around noon:
And a little later the same day, more storm clouds rolled in:
Today this is that view. We woke to shin deep snow and it’s still snowing on and off.
The daffodils my friend Becky brought by on St. Patrick’s are blooming yellow and smell like spring.
One sofa weather observer noted that 37 inches of snow fell on her yard in the last four days. That seems about right. But out the road they are tunneling though fathoms of the stuff, and with that comes a kind of reverse bragging right– “You think it’s bad at your place, my chickens are scratching up on the roof.” I suppose that’s better than a moose on the deck. There are three of them over at my neighbor’s place. Still, all this snow is good for the ski club’s loppet at 25-Mile on Sunday, at 12:30. There will be cocoa and hotdogs too, and everyone is welcome. And who knows? The odds are the sun will be out again.
Tom is volunteering on the radio this afternoon, talking and playing country music. He just said to look out the window, there’s blue sky and the sun is shining on the new snow. “We are living in a postcard,” Tom says.
Spring is apparently two miles from here.
I’ll just have to be patient, summer will be here soon, and so will nearly normal life. This last stretch is the hardest. You’ve got this. I do too. In the meantime, here is a postcard shot I took yesterday over near the KHNS studio in Fort Seward. As Jimmy Buffet sings, “The weather is here, wish you were, beautiful.”
