Tag Archives: weather

Spring Has Sprung


I wore a coat today. Then I wondered why I bothered. The forecast said to expect a high of 46 but we got up to 64 today. Because Anytown.

I went to the library tonight and didn’t get frostbite on the way in.

The air smelled of hope and daffodils. There were no daffodils to smell after last week’s snow, so I’m still trying to figure that out. But there were daffodils.

I could walk to lunch without needing to tuck my chin into my scarf and shiver. In fact, I didn’t shiver at all today.

The weather made up for the fact that it’s Monday, and Mondays should be banned.

Spring is back. I am eager for the green that is March, the blue that is April, and the blue that is May.


Wish Granted


So it snowed in our little stretch of the woods. And it’s beautiful.

It’s all over the roads and the trees and the grass. It’s covered the cars and the outdoor tables and covered walkways.

Snow makes everything quiet. Like the earth pulls and white blanket over its head and takes a nap.

And even if classes aren’t cancelled tomorrow afternoon, the snow was worth the beauty of it. Worth the excitement of hurrying home and snuggling deep in a pile of blankets with my reading of choice.

Every so often, we’re given exactly what we wish for.



So it’s supposed to snow again tomorrow. But the weather channel keeps changing its mind.

It was the image of optimism this morning. (Or pessimism, depending on your perspective.)

“An inch of snow tonight and early tomorrow morning!” cried the weather channel. “Three to five inches of accumulation Wednesday night! 100% chance!!! BUY ALL THE BREAD AND MILK!!”

By the afternoon, it was less assertive.

“Maybe some snow tonight. Definitely really early tomorrow morning. But there’s still going to be snow on Wednesday! 90%!!”

And by tonight, it was all like:

“Maybe snow tonight. Maybe snow Wednesday. Meh.”

And by tomorrow morning, the report will be “Rain. Just cold and rain. For days.”

I honestly think the weather channel is all about getting our hopes up and then squashing them like little bugs. Because if it’s not going to be magically warm and sunny again, at least give us some snow.

But no. Just rain.

Days and days of rain.



That’s what I said when I checked my voicemail this morning. My mother’s voice played back to me and I heard her use the word “snow” after the words “cancelled because of the.”

“What?” I said aloud to my empty apartment. This is the southeast. Snow in November is unheard of. The last time it snowed before December was around twelve years ago. It snowed on Thanksgiving. A dusting.

But lo and behold, I pulled my blinds open and looked out over a little winter wonderland.

It didn’t snow much. Some areas got four inches. I got about a half inch. My parents, who live down the road a ways, didn’t get any snow at all, which caused them much disappointment.

And it was so. Very. Cold. Outside.

This is unheard of. I’ve lived here my whole life. We don’t get snow this early. It certainly never gets this cold this early.

What can this mean? What’s in store for us this year? A white Christmas? Dare I dream for a white Thanksgiving? Only time will tell.

I was thankful for an early taste of Christmas. I am eager for the happiest time of the year to go ahead and get here.



I can’t get warm.

Now that’s it’s autumn, the outside is chill and crisp. Well, not crisp yet…it’s still muggy, because it’s Anytown and it’s always muggy here. But it’s chill and damp, which is somehow harder to bear.

I work in the library. The library is kept as cold as a cadaver lab so mold won’t grow on the books. Ironically, the coldest places in the library are where the fewest books are kept. Places like the area immediately surrounding my desk. I keep a space heater running just so I can feel my fingers to type.

As a GA, I work in the library and do my homework in the library. Occasionally I venture to class, where the classrooms are still mysteriously cold, and the amphitorium, which is a few degrees warmer because I sit in the balcony and heat rises. Still, I spend 90% of my time in the freezing cold library, and walk out at the end of the day into a wall of increasingly freezing air.

At the end of the day, all i want is a cup of tea, a hot shower, flannel PJs and about twenty quilts. By then, i can feel my toes again, and I can go to sleep.

A Question for the Weather


Alright, March. Are you going to come in like a lion, or in like a lamb? It’s about time to settle on one or the other, because my wardrobe can’t handle the variables you’ve been throwing at me lately.  

I need an umbrella and a coat in the morning and short sleeves and sandals in the afternoon. I was shivering on my way to class this morning but got a sunburn after lunch. I hugged my coffee cup during my 8:00 class and guzzled lemonade at 2:00. 

Make up your mind. You can be spring, or winter, but definitely not both. Not in the same day. Nope. Not allowed. 

Please and thank you. 

The Weather Outside Is Frightful


Students at Undisclosed University have been unusually blessed this semester—if we can call inclement weather a blessing.

Historically, bad weather affected the school about as much as the Titanic affected that iceberg. Drifts as high as six feet, snow clogging the roads, and the show went on. Teachers got to school however they could. Students snow-shoed to class. Nothing stopped the tide of learning. The rest of the county would be out of commission for a week, southern towns being as incapable as they are when it comes to snow, but not at UU. No, sir. They could build life-size replicas of the university president and a ten-foot bust of Bach, but there wasn’t nearly enough snow to cancel classes.

Times have changed. Two weeks ago, a sleet storm iced over the roads surrounding campus, making driving a dangerous affair. Classes were cancelled all day long, so we got an impromptu holiday. The ice was gone the next day, but everyone got to have fun playing what little snow there was and/or sleeping.

And the weather man is predicting solid snow and ice for the next two days. County schools have already closed up shop. My modern poetry professor already handed us our quiz for Wednesday and told us she’d record the lecture, so don’t bother coming to class. UU students wait with bated breath to hear the verdict—classes or no classes.

I, personally, am torn. I like not having to go to class. I love snow. I love the coziness that comes after being out in the middle of it. I love an excuse to drink hot chocolate and curl up in a blanket and read things—or write them.

But I had plans for Wednesday. Nice plans. Plans that would be interrupted by several miles of snowy, icy road between him and me. Snow is fun and all, but it’s better shared.

And I wouldn’t mind being home. Snow days at home are always so magical. Mother and I bake things. We watch movies and eat the baked things. We go out and build snowmen and take pictures of our house in the snow. We walk around and look at other houses’ snowmen. It’s always so lovely. But if things work out the way the weatherman says, I’ll be on campus tomorrow. Campus is nice and all…but it’s nothing compared to home.

We will see what tomorrow brings. In the meantime, I will sleep, and wait for the morning email that determines tomorrow’s destiny. 

Perfect Day


To borrow a phrase from the British, college is rubbish.

It’s great because you learn things—learning is important, kids—but the stress is ridiculous, and it’s easy to get tunnel-vision and lose your global perspective.

This is why college is rubbish. You don’t enjoy most of it because you’re too tired to think straight.

But every once in a while, you get a Perfect Day.

It snowed. They shut down the roads. No teachers, no classes. Undisclosed University got a holiday today. We never get holidays like this.

Like the big, sophisticated, worldly adults we all are, we college students went out and played in the snow. Or stayed inside and played games. Or read. Or drank hot chocolate.

For me, today was a day of perfect sleep, perfect meals, perfect weather, perfect (absent) classes, perfect company, and perfect fun.

This will make returning to humdrum reality very difficult tomorrow.

Somehow, I don’t care. 

It’s Beginning


Apologies to The Smaller Half, who already mentioned this in his post tonight. But, right now, considering the startling and sudden drop in temperature, I can think of nothing better to say than “baby, it’s cold outside.”

Someone turned on winter. We barely got much of autumn—and now it’s winter.

I will count my blessings, though. The leaves were, in fact, gorgeously colorful this year, as my father predicted. They fell like confetti in a parade, forming leafy tornadoes around my feet as I shuffled from place to place, so surprised by the onset of winter that I didn’t come prepared with a coat.

It’s always pretty apparent when Winter walks in. Autumn Floats in gently, laughing as she comes, running her fingers through the trees and making the world turn firework colors. She’s nutty and giggly and a fairly lighthearted soul.

Winter, though. Winter’s different.

Winter blusters. She has a sneaky smile on her face, and has a mischievous sense of humor. She rattles the acorns from the trees and blows though the leaf piles that were so tidily raked the day before. She pulls a grey curtain over the sky and lingers longer than her welcome really ought to last.

But she is kinder than she’d like you to think she is. Occasionally, she brings snow.

Snow can be an inconvenience. It can even be dangerous. But it is beautiful, and it means canceled classes if there’s enough of it. Snow means a good excuse for hot chocolate and staring out the window and forgetting, for a moment, that you are twenty-one. For a moment, you can remember what it’s like to be six, and there’s snow outside.

I rather miss being six.

Winter is funny about bringing up the past and reassuring you that the future may be chilly, but there are still places of warmth, somewhere, in this wild and wacky world. 

Dear Autumn,


You can start now.

I mean, I know you got here a few weeks ago. Your entrance was lovely—clear skies, cool breezes, the sun even shone differently.  We were all so excited to see you that we wore our sweaters and bought pumpkin spice lattes.

And then—well, honestly I don’t know what happened. You stopped doing your fall thing.

It’s all humid again, Autumn. The sun’s far too hot for October, and the leaves are barely turning colors. The crickets are still chirping solemnly in the bushes—they should have moved on by now. It’s practically summer still.

Is something wrong? Are you sick?

Did we do something to offend you? Whatever it was, I’m so sorry.

We need you, Autumn. Come back. Summer’s been too long—we need your crispness, your blue skies, your silent, early evenings, your clear stars.

Please, Autumn. We’ve waited so long.





and everyone in Anytown. 

Rainy Monday Observations


Speaking of the Carpenters, today was both rainy and a Monday—talk about a double dose of getting you down.

On this rainy Monday, all I can offer the blogosphere is a short list of observations that accumulated during the day.

  1. Not drinking coffee is hard.
  2. If you make an effort to go to bed early, I can guarantee you that it’ll take you about an hour and a half to fall asleep.
  3. My mother took an online class this summer and didn’t lose a single point. She made a perfect score in the class. She is AMAZING. I will elaborate on her amazingness in later posts.
  4. Yellow has got to be the happiest color.
  5. For some inexplicable reason, people find it hard to distinguish between the different members of the big cat family. I hear people calling lions “tigers,” despite their obvious lack of stripes, or, oddly worse, calling tigers “lions,” even though they obviously don’t have huge, distinctive manes—not to mention they’re bright orange. Leopards get called “tigers” all the time, even though they have spots, not stripes. Why is this? Can people not tell the difference between spots, stripes, or the absence of both? Weren’t they paying attention in preschool when they taught this stuff along with the alphabet? This has been a lifelong question of mine, and maybe one day someone will explain it to me. Okay, I’m done with that one.
  6. A lot of my female friends from high school and engaged/married. There are more every year who achieve this attached status. I guess this sort of thing is to be expected, but I’ve known most of these women my whole life, and I confess to being really, really weirded out every time I think of these people I knew as little girls being all…married.
  7. My cat is afraid of Doctor Who. Every time we watch the show as a family, she crawls into my mother’s lap, staring at the screen as though it’s the source of all that is evil, her ears back and her eyes dilated. Dad just has to whistle the theme song, and she wigs out. I mean, the show is traumatizing and all, but you’d think a cat would be impervious to that kind of thing.
  8. If things get a bit slow at work and it seems like there’s nothing to do (if you have the kind of job that allows for such pauses, and especially if it’s the kind of job that keeps you on your feet), all you have to do is sit down, and something to do will come to you. It’s like magic.
  9. You can’t force a poem. If you try, you will just end up depressing yourself. So don’t go there.
  10. School starts in a little over two weeks. Ack. Oh, wait, I did a post on that. Never mind.

Thunder Man


come, Thunder Man, come


come in your coal black balloon

and burn me with lightening


come and blot out my stars


tear my hair with your hollow winds

beat my bones with your hailstones


come Thunder Man


come encase me in ice

soak me in shadow


I am not afraid


I defy your sorcery

Black Balloon Man


I defy your darkness


for I know in your wake

rides the Rainbow