Volume 14, Issue 5; 03 Feb 2011

Snow. Snow and snow. Snow, snow, snow, and snow. Snow with snow. Snow, snow, snow, snow, snow, snow, spam, and snow. With apologies to Monty Python.

The aging process has you firmly in its grasp if you never get the urge to throw a snowball.

Doug Larson

If I'm the first person to tell you that the northeast (part of the United States) has been buried under snow this winter, you need to get out more. Not that getting out is easy in these parts, mind you.

When last I checked, there was 26 inches of standing snow in the back yard. (That's ≈66cm for you folks following along in the rest of the world.)

Yesterday's freezing rain remained solidly frozen. All those roundish grains of ice falling on the roof lead to some very cool avalanche patterns.

Our roof is quite steep, but if it was pitched more shallowly, like this one, I'd be worried.

What does worry me is our fence.

If we get some freezing rain and a crust firm enough for our dogs to walk on forms, I'm afraid they'll be able to hop right over the fence. I see a possible future in which I engage in an achingly long slog around the fence digging a “moat” to keep them. I really hope that future doesn't come to pass.


So where's the spam?

—Posted by Dorothea Salo on 03 Feb 2011 @ 07:35 UTC #

Under all the snow, of course!

—Posted by Norman Walsh on 03 Feb 2011 @ 09:30 UTC #