Squelches

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Positive: it’s warmer than it’s been in ages. Not so positive: it’s misty and rainy and at 41 degrees, not a pleasant combination for outside.

Remember what I said about temperamental weather?

So yeah.

I made an experimental sort-of peppermint mocha, with a bit of cocoa mix, coffee (natch!) and a candy cane. I can’t decide if it’s a success or a terrible disaster that will make cleaning the mug a problem. That kind of a day.

An in-between day.

It’s definitely a day for curling up an escaping into imaginary worlds, with this one remaining so relentless dreary. Lately it’s either 3 degrees and clear as crystal ice, or above freezing but with a rain that makes it feel like it’s not.

The world kind of feels that way too.

There is so much we can’t control. Like the weather. It will be what it will be, and it doesn’t care whether we like it.

Maybe there’s a lesson in that.

So we take our days as they come, the bright, the gray, the misty, the soggy. The extremely soggy. I can just imagine the squelch of the recently-revealed brown grass today.

You know what? Why don’t we delight in the squelches, and splash in our puddles and accept that today, the air is wet. We don’t know what tomorrow will bring.

(Yes, hypothetical reader, it is more rain, but why ruin a perfectly good metaphor?!)

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Aunty Ida’s Holey Amazing Sleeping Preparation (Not Doctor Recommended) 

 Her Cousin Much Removed

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Today I’m in a Fog

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Yesterday there were intermittent storms, and today, it’s fog. Thick, bright, nearly white fog so dense It’s all I see when I look out of the the window.

Talk about having your head in the clouds.

It’s strange, this translucent blanket over the world. It looks almost as though my windows have turned to that glass that changes its own opacity electronically. The future is truly amazing, but I digress.

Where the rain seemed to enclose everything, draw everything together, the fog wedges it all apart into sections, the seen and unseen, the close enough to be visible, and the far enough away to feel as though it’s part of another world, one impossible to imagine through the wall of tiny droplets.

But the sound isn’t muffled. There’s no air of waiting, like there was with the storm. No, it’s business as usual out there, even when no one can see what lies 100 yards ahead.

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The Storm Makes an Entrance

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I love watching a storm come in. Well, as long as I’m not going to be caught in it, that is.

But it’s amazing to see the sky lose all color until it’s a sea of whites to grays to blacks, layers of smudges across the sky. Hear the air grow quiet, the sound muffled, as it seems like all of nature is waiting, waiting for those first drops, for that first crack of thunder.

The air feels different, heavier, full, and then it’s like the clouds are toying with us, leaving us to wonder when. Not yet, not yet, but still they look impossibly heavy, as though the weight of them will crash them right back down to earth.

The light changes, loses itself in the clouds, and everything below looks like an early color photograph when the colors weren’t too sure of themselves.

Then I can see the rain in the distance, blurring everything between me and it, softening the lines. And I know that soon, soon, it will be here too.

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June Undecided Sky

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There’s a moment, when the sky grows dark and grayness takes to the air, where it can go either way. It can rain, or it can not rain. You may sit, half-tensed and not even aware of it, waiting for that first crack of thunder.

I can see it, sometimes, the sheet of rain coming in the distance, spreading a haze of water a bit at a time until suddenly the whole air is filled with it. Sometimes the rain makes things quieter, muted.

Some days it starts and goes on like that for hours, going in rounds of misty rain and huge, intense drops. And other times it’s here and gone in a moment, an indecisive drizzle finished almost when it started.

But the funny thing is that the sky looks the same, sometimes. Heavy, waterlogged. It’s what the sky will do with it we never seem to know.

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Is Spring a Thing?

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Is it? Could it possibly be? Spring?

Yesterday my phone lied to me, told me it was a heady 79 degrees. I was skeptical, though, and just in case the temperature took a tumble, I grabbed my jacket on the way out of the door. Then my car told me it was 56. Fifty-six degrees.

I was glad I’d grabbed that jacket.

But today, my phone is telling me that it’s 72. Now we all already know that it is prone to slight exaggeration, or, in yesterday’s case, 20 degree exaggeration, but I’ve got to tell you, people out in in the blogosphere, it looks like it’s 72 degrees. The air looks warmer, the joggers aren’t bracing themselves against the wind. I think, for today, my phone might just be telling it like it is.

There’s a certain feeling when the weather changes, a sense of shedding something more than a heavy winter coat. And though the sky can’t seem to make up its mind, the trees look determined to push on with their leafy agenda.

Finally.

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Happy Spring in Theory

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Can someone please tell the weather that today is the first day of spring? My direct line to the elements seems to have been disconnected.

According to my phone, we are supposed to have flurries today. Flurries. Actually, it says it’s snowing right now, but my window and the bright blue sky beg to differ.

There was a thin, taunting layer of snow this morning when I got up, and it seems to have mostly disappeared, with white patches remaining to remind us who is boss.

It’s been a greedy, narcissistic winter, starting early and stepping on fall’s toes, hogging the spotlight and elbowing out spring. Watch out summer, it might be coming for you next.

And in case I think it’s all one elaborate joke, the extended forecast promises snow next week. Actual snow next week, when it’s very nearly April.

It’s enough already, winter. Take your bows and make a graceful exit while you still can. Now it’s just embarrassing.