The forecast isn’t wrong every time
The weather forecast can’t always be wrong. Yesterday, we were told that snow was coming. And it did. All night long. This morning, we moved from nothing to something. Or as I told one of the kids, zero to thirty (centimeters). I measured. Stuck a ruler into the snow cover and confirmed things.
Now, there’s one small oversight. We hadn’t made any arrangements for removal of our new snow, other than waiting for next summer. Hardly a solution. So, when a familiar blue tractor with an attached blower arrived, I (almost) shed tears of relief. I had imagined myself, with a shovel, making neat trails in the driveway and trying to get things clear to move a car. That was all behind me. We should get regular visits until the start of fishing season, or spring. Whichever comes first.
I did take a couple of photos. Proof that we actually received as much snow as calculated. Scary. I mean, I live in Canada. This happens, pretty much every year. And we are never ready.
The snowshoes were deployed (not by me, but I live vicariously). The dogs were followed, down the hill and up again. If we never get another flake, at least the season wasn’t a rout. Or route. After all, why bother with rackets, if there is no need to make a route, right?
Had a long conversation with an old buddy, on a less-than-ideal phone line. Required a redial, at one point. We’re both growing old, gracefully. At least, I hope so. Haven’t actually had a face-to-face in over a year.
