I don’t pay much attention to weather forecasts. Whatever the prediction the weather is what it is. But sometimes a forecast jumps up and shouts in one’s face. Like tonight, when I heard that a “monster storm’ with a track 2100 miles long is projected to bring blizzard conditions from the Great Plains to New England, dropping 21 inches of snow in the Boston area before tomorrow night, followed by sleet and freezing rain. The last I heard about this storm, from my builder friend John who does pay attention to weather forecasts because they directly affect his business, it called for 3-6 inches of snow. Not nothing, but not a monster. What happened between 7 am and 6:30 pm today?
I’m ready. The back spasms caused by shoveling last week’s snow are almost gone, and I can bend over the sink to brush my teeth without supporting my torso. Who needs the gym?
The air temperature was 40 degrees at 5:30 this morning. A brisk temperature for a bike ride, especially on June 1. I do like New England weather, I do like New England weather, I do like New England weather . . .
Some spend spring break–an event that makes my friends with non-academic jobs question their career choices–in fair-weather climes. I’m a New Englander in my bones. All of that sun, sand, warm water, easy living, and relaxation are frivolous when you can spend a character-building week in March with this:
Sometimes February in Boston provides a classic New England winter with deep fluffy snow, narrow paths carved through the drifts, and a brilliant blue skies. Other Februaries are like this one. A thin crust of iron-hard frozen gunk covers the ground, sand covers the roads, and lawns are scarred from exuberant cowboy plow operators. It’s hard to imagine how much can change when you travel 120 miles due north.
There has been so much snow that the oil truck has not been able to drive down the access road to get to the house. We’re nursing about a half-tank of oil, keeping the thermostats low and relying on the wood stove and fireplace to maintain a livable temperature. The oil man is due again Monday and part of today’s job was to shovel a path from the driveway to the oil fill pipe–which is located about as far away from the driveway as can be.
In winter, it gets no better than this.