It's the 3rd of December and there is no snow covering the ground. While that may not be a suprise to some folks, where I come from the cold season is like taking Forrest Gump at face value... "cuz, you never know what you're gonna get". Well, let me put it another way, one of our weathermen goes by the infamous name of "Blizzard Bill".
Looking out of the window of my workplace, the sky is gray and overcast because beyond those clouds, winter's first snowfall is waiting. Don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't like seeing the pristine scenery of virgin snow everywhere. I think I'd rather just see it from somewhere around the equator.
I lived in London for a few years and liked it a lot. Rarely did it ever snow and there were only a couple of days during winter when there was a bit of ice on the sidewalks. Somewhere there was always green grass to be found and flowers without fragrance adorning an English garden or balcony. Heck, there were even green pastures with fat woolly sheep loitering around during the winter months and you could walk across the pastures through the gates of wooden fences designed so as to allow one to walk throughout the countryside without the feel of trespassing on private properties.
It was different and nice, but, nearly always, always damp and chilly with hovering gray skies. In fact, it was like this most of the year, cold, wet, fog-smoggy, and lots of rain laced with seasonal blustery winds. You kind of get used to it.
But, coming back to the States, I found that winter months in the northwest Ohio valley can be particularly harsh, if you're not a winter person. Across that valley you get hit with the rush of freezing winds and lake-effect snows that leave a blanket of snow covered icy sidewalks, streets, telephone wires and trees. At times the snow drifts peak at 3 to 4 feet at your front door and spills over into your boots onto your ankles as you step across the threshold.
Then, there is the occasional Alberta Clipper, that comes from the north and rips down through the valley, rapidly streaking over the lake, tearing across the river to seal the previous covering of ice and snow with higher snow drifts and a much thicker ice-encrusted encasement that turns into a a surface of mirrored-glass as the bright winter sun peaks through the retreating morning clouds. It can be striking and beautiful, but, oh so cold and seems never to truly thaw until late spring.
At this moment, the Mamas and the Papas have filtered into my thoughts serenading me with a stanza and chorus of "California Dreamin' ", bringing a real smile to my face and a memory that warms my heart.
Looking out of the window of my workplace, the sky is gray and overcast because beyond those clouds, winter's first snowfall is waiting. Don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't like seeing the pristine scenery of virgin snow everywhere. I think I'd rather just see it from somewhere around the equator.
I lived in London for a few years and liked it a lot. Rarely did it ever snow and there were only a couple of days during winter when there was a bit of ice on the sidewalks. Somewhere there was always green grass to be found and flowers without fragrance adorning an English garden or balcony. Heck, there were even green pastures with fat woolly sheep loitering around during the winter months and you could walk across the pastures through the gates of wooden fences designed so as to allow one to walk throughout the countryside without the feel of trespassing on private properties.
It was different and nice, but, nearly always, always damp and chilly with hovering gray skies. In fact, it was like this most of the year, cold, wet, fog-smoggy, and lots of rain laced with seasonal blustery winds. You kind of get used to it.
But, coming back to the States, I found that winter months in the northwest Ohio valley can be particularly harsh, if you're not a winter person. Across that valley you get hit with the rush of freezing winds and lake-effect snows that leave a blanket of snow covered icy sidewalks, streets, telephone wires and trees. At times the snow drifts peak at 3 to 4 feet at your front door and spills over into your boots onto your ankles as you step across the threshold.
Then, there is the occasional Alberta Clipper, that comes from the north and rips down through the valley, rapidly streaking over the lake, tearing across the river to seal the previous covering of ice and snow with higher snow drifts and a much thicker ice-encrusted encasement that turns into a a surface of mirrored-glass as the bright winter sun peaks through the retreating morning clouds. It can be striking and beautiful, but, oh so cold and seems never to truly thaw until late spring.
At this moment, the Mamas and the Papas have filtered into my thoughts serenading me with a stanza and chorus of "California Dreamin' ", bringing a real smile to my face and a memory that warms my heart.
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