Chilling thoughts of the season

We are now under a Hazardous Weather Outlook. The counties immediately to our east are under a Winter Weather Advisory. It appears that the difference between our getting 1 inch of snow and 5 inches of snow may be little more that a ten or twenty mile shift in the storm’s track or the width of the snowfall bands. We’ll try to let you know Wednesday morning what happened, when it’s all done. [Sometimes I think the kind of forecast uncertainty that lets meteorologists mess with our heads brings out the sadistic streaks in weather folks.]

Yesterday was the beginning of Advent this year, for those who follow such observations. It will, of course, end on Christmas Day. Several of the Advent calendars I’ve seen recently only count the 24 days beginning on December 1. Maybe that’s the difference between religious and secular Adventures?

a spirit of weather yet to come

Photo by J. Harrington

We’ve seen reports that some locals have ventured forth onto the thin ice to start the ice fishing season. We’ve also seen reports about how lots of other local folks think that’s pretty stupid, to put it as diplomatically as possible. Personally, I find sitting around and watching a bobber or vertical jigging to be only slightly more exciting than watching paint dry or grass grow. [Can you tell I’m not a big fan of winter?]

Last night a beautiful crescent moon rose in the southern sky before dark. A first quarter moon occurs Wednesday. Cloud cover is likely to keep us from seeing the moon tonight or tomorrow. As of today, it is 112 days until Spring Equinox. I’ve already heard from the elves that Santa isn’t likely to deliver an early spring as a Christmas present, but he’s willing to help us walk on water locally for a couple of months after Christmas. That covers the two months from December 25 til the end of February, when permanent ice houses have to be removed.

Poems

by Rita Joe

Our home is this country
Across the windswept hills
With snow on fields.
The cold air.
I like to think of our native life,
Curious, free;
And look at the stars
Sending icy messages.
My eyes see the cold face of the moon
Cast his net over the bay.
It seems
We are like the moon --
Born,
Grow slowly,
Then fade away, to reappear again
In a never-ending cycle.
Our lives go on
Until we are old and wise.
Then end.
We are no more,
Except we leave
A heritage that never dies.

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