Beware the question

In our last post we asked the sincere question "Where is winter?" In this post we pursue a closely related topic: Why did we ask that question?

Because when you ask a question, you just might get an answer.

An answer of 27.5.

Inches.

Snow.

That's a lot of winter all at once.

It would not have been such a bad thing if it had come in courses, like a nice dinner. A few light, flaky inches to start things off, whet the appetite. Then a hearty serving of several more inches, with a little side of sunny but cool days, so as not to hasten melting too much. Then a grand finale of fluffy dessert snow, before it all goes up in a glorious flambé of warmish days and mild nights and leaves us with just pleasant memories (“Ahhh...remember that gentle snowfall in January? So pretty. So just the right amount“).

Or a buffet, where each of us could choose what we wanted and didn't want and wait for the old, tired dregs to be taken away and replaced by a fresh new helping.

Instead, we were served up a huge helping of snow all at once, plopped in a giant dog dish unceremoniously.

So we are all coping as best we can with the resulting indigestion caused by such a feast, not wanting any more snow for a very long time. Eager for a diet of something lighter, with a heaping side of sunshine and warmth.