Category Archives: weather

On stormy weather

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When it thunders, one feels about five years old again. There is something totally viceral, totally primal about the chills that run down your spine when a clap of thunder shakes the house. Are there swirling chaotic winds blowing down off the plains of Kansas? You wonder. Is that fear I smell when a clap of thunder hits something near the house? The thunder becomes crisper and louder, and you wonder about taking cover. Raindrops clatter off the top of the chimney cap. Will Mother Nature be merciful? Or will she huff and puff and blow the house down? You feel small when the wind blows, the lightening strikes, and the hail clatters against the windows. Your reaction is not logical or sensible, but irrational and fearful as the wind grows to a roaring gale. Is the house safe? Oh, ye of little faith. Our puny homes are just a matchbox construction compared to the power and fury of a storm roaring across central Texas on its way to devastate Arkansas and Louisiana. Straight line winds, tornados, hail, torrential rain, and lightening are all the violent features of a weather phenomenon that is only too common in the month of April. We need the rain, but we would like to keep our trees. The things is these storms are not completely predictable in spite of what the weather people claim. In fact, the weather people know that they can only predict the weather within certain time parameters–the further you move out from the here and now, the less accurate their predictions are. Weather is a non-linear equation that is only predictable over an extended period of time because weather events are self-similar, but at any given moment, you might be wrong.

On stormy weather

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When it thunders, one feels about five years old again. There is something totally viceral, totally primal about the chills that run down your spine when a clap of thunder shakes the house. Are there swirling chaotic winds blowing down off the plains of Kansas? You wonder. Is that fear I smell when a clap of thunder hits something near the house? The thunder becomes crisper and louder, and you wonder about taking cover. Raindrops clatter off the top of the chimney cap. Will Mother Nature be merciful? Or will she huff and puff and blow the house down? You feel small when the wind blows, the lightening strikes, and the hail clatters against the windows. Your reaction is not logical or sensible, but irrational and fearful as the wind grows to a roaring gale. Is the house safe? Oh, ye of little faith. Our puny homes are just a matchbox construction compared to the power and fury of a storm roaring across central Texas on its way to devastate Arkansas and Louisiana. Straight line winds, tornados, hail, torrential rain, and lightening are all the violent features of a weather phenomenon that is only too common in the month of April. We need the rain, but we would like to keep our trees. The things is these storms are not completely predictable in spite of what the weather people claim. In fact, the weather people know that they can only predict the weather within certain time parameters–the further you move out from the here and now, the less accurate their predictions are. Weather is a non-linear equation that is only predictable over an extended period of time because weather events are self-similar, but at any given moment, you might be wrong.

On sleet

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Sleet is one of those easy metaphors for the difficulties life drops on your head: frozen rain. Walking in the sleet this afternoon, I was reminded that you cannot only not predict what might happen at any given moment, but that life is a tenuous adventure at best. Sleet stings as it hits your face, cold and icy. In vain, you put up your hands to block this icy sand that hits your tender skin. Sleet is anti-aesthetic. Snow gently falls on valley and field, horse and rider, but sleet just piles up in the corners like so many dead crickets. Sleet is death-like, the bottom pit of winter. It freezes on your windshield, turns into shiny ice on overpasses, turns steps into a death trap. Whatever is bad and evil and uncomfortable about winter is embodied in those stone-hard pellets of ice that tumble aimlessly through the sky and hit you on the head. Sleet seems to be an outcast of Hell, even unworthy of one of Dante’s circles. Cars spin madly out of control, people slip and slide wildly in a surrealistic comic ballet, and your tulips develop a shiny death glaze that will leave them brown and wilted. The birds hide, the peach blossoms fall off, and the squirrels sleep the sleep of the just plain tired.

On sleet

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Sleet is one of those easy metaphors for the difficulties life drops on your head: frozen rain. Walking in the sleet this afternoon, I was reminded that you cannot only not predict what might happen at any given moment, but that life is a tenuous adventure at best. Sleet stings as it hits your face, cold and icy. In vain, you put up your hands to block this icy sand that hits your tender skin. Sleet is anti-aesthetic. Snow gently falls on valley and field, horse and rider, but sleet just piles up in the corners like so many dead crickets. Sleet is death-like, the bottom pit of winter. It freezes on your windshield, turns into shiny ice on overpasses, turns steps into a death trap. Whatever is bad and evil and uncomfortable about winter is embodied in those stone-hard pellets of ice that tumble aimlessly through the sky and hit you on the head. Sleet seems to be an outcast of Hell, even unworthy of one of Dante’s circles. Cars spin madly out of control, people slip and slide wildly in a surrealistic comic ballet, and your tulips develop a shiny death glaze that will leave them brown and wilted. The birds hide, the peach blossoms fall off, and the squirrels sleep the sleep of the just plain tired.

On snow flakes

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The engineering and architecture of the snow flake is really a very simple hexagonal lattice which forms regular symmetrical hexagonal prisms. Your car, however, will slip and slide the same whether you know that or not. Every winter I am fascinated by snow and our relationship to it. Where I live in central Texas, it rarely snows at all. The fresh white blanket of a recent snowfall, however, adds incredible beauty to the frozen and desolate landscape of winter. Winter in the Northland is a devastating and painful experience of cold and ice, temperatures so low you have to put a “minus” sign in front of the number. Yet when it warms up to just below freezing, it snows and we have to plow or shovel or go sliding into the ditch–love, hate snow flakes, you might say. Watching falling snow has such a calming effect on me that I can nap at the drop of hat during a fresh snow–I have a Youtube channel on my computer which only shows falling snow. Yet it is slippery, and on more than one occasion I have performed awkward ballet moves on my way down to the ground, proving once and for all that gravity is real and that I am mere flesh and blood that may be broken. My one and only spinout in a car occurred while driving in fresh snow. Snow flakes are of the most delicate combinations of frozen ice crystals, microscopic, really, but they have the power to wreak to havoc on the populations where they fall, clogging up streets and highways, slicking up sidewalks and driveways, making life just a little more dangerous than it already is. So one would have to say that snow is both a blessing and curse, but for the moment, I prefer to see it as a blessing.

On snow flakes

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The engineering and architecture of the snow flake is really a very simple hexagonal lattice which forms regular symmetrical hexagonal prisms. Your car, however, will slip and slide the same whether you know that or not. Every winter I am fascinated by snow and our relationship to it. Where I live in central Texas, it rarely snows at all. The fresh white blanket of a recent snowfall, however, adds incredible beauty to the frozen and desolate landscape of winter. Winter in the Northland is a devastating and painful experience of cold and ice, temperatures so low you have to put a “minus” sign in front of the number. Yet when it warms up to just below freezing, it snows and we have to plow or shovel or go sliding into the ditch–love, hate snow flakes, you might say. Watching falling snow has such a calming effect on me that I can nap at the drop of hat during a fresh snow–I have a Youtube channel on my computer which only shows falling snow. Yet it is slippery, and on more than one occasion I have performed awkward ballet moves on my way down to the ground, proving once and for all that gravity is real and that I am mere flesh and blood that may be broken. My one and only spinout in a car occurred while driving in fresh snow. Snow flakes are of the most delicate combinations of frozen ice crystals, microscopic, really, but they have the power to wreak to havoc on the populations where they fall, clogging up streets and highways, slicking up sidewalks and driveways, making life just a little more dangerous than it already is. So one would have to say that snow is both a blessing and curse, but for the moment, I prefer to see it as a blessing.

On shoveling snow

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Growing up in Minnesota, shoveling snow is just another part of life, like breathing or getting a drink of water. What most people underestimate when they shovel snow is how heavy the white stuff can be and how much energy needs to be exerted to move it. Snow blowers help, but you also have to run the snow blower, which is no piece of cake either. The problem with moving snow, shoveling snow, is that you have to do it in the cold, so do you dress for the cold or for heavy work you will have to do? Sweating and huffing and puffing until you fall, exhausted, into a snow bank, vowing to move to Florida as soon as possible. The shovels, themselves, are partially the problem. No one has ever designed the ergonomic shovel because those designing shovels are never the people using the shovels. Shovel designers probably live in Brownsville, Texas, and have never seen snow in their lives. Shoveling snow at zero degrees Fahrenheit with a stiff wind blowing out of the northwest is not a recommended scenario, but happens more often than you would think. Snow, blind, inert, unfeeling, does not cooperate with those moving it. It blows in your face, accumulates in drifts as hard as concrete, and unless you move it (or the wind), it stays where it lands. Yet, after an hour of hard work, is there any greater satisfaction of looking back over your clean sidewalk and walking into the house for a hot cup of cocoa knowing that everyone can walk down your sidewalk without having to fight the snow.

On shoveling snow

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Growing up in Minnesota, shoveling snow is just another part of life, like breathing or getting a drink of water. What most people underestimate when they shovel snow is how heavy the white stuff can be and how much energy needs to be exerted to move it. Snow blowers help, but you also have to run the snow blower, which is no piece of cake either. The problem with moving snow, shoveling snow, is that you have to do it in the cold, so do you dress for the cold or for heavy work you will have to do? Sweating and huffing and puffing until you fall, exhausted, into a snow bank, vowing to move to Florida as soon as possible. The shovels, themselves, are partially the problem. No one has ever designed the ergonomic shovel because those designing shovels are never the people using the shovels. Shovel designers probably live in Brownsville, Texas, and have never seen snow in their lives. Shoveling snow at zero degrees Fahrenheit with a stiff wind blowing out of the northwest is not a recommended scenario, but happens more often than you would think. Snow, blind, inert, unfeeling, does not cooperate with those moving it. It blows in your face, accumulates in drifts as hard as concrete, and unless you move it (or the wind), it stays where it lands. Yet, after an hour of hard work, is there any greater satisfaction of looking back over your clean sidewalk and walking into the house for a hot cup of cocoa knowing that everyone can walk down your sidewalk without having to fight the snow.

On a hypothetical snow day

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It is the eternal dream of all children, old and young, to get a day off from work and school because of bad winter weather. No, I don’t expect a foot of snow tomorrow, but it could ice up really good overnight which would make driving prohibitive, or at least very dangerous. Driving in snow isn’t easy, and you can slide around a bit, but driving on ice, well, just isn’t possible. If you have no friction between wheel and road, you don’t have any driving either–you just have lots of sliding, and sliding is bad in a two ton vehicle. The dream of a day off from the regular grind is more tantalizing than finding free money because even if you find free money, you still have to do something to enjoy it. A snow day is enjoyed by doing nothing more than staying home. You don’t have to get dressed, you can drink a second cup of coffee, you might take a nap or even read a book–watch an old movie, maybe. The hustle and bustle of December is stressful, but a snow day is a de-stressor, if such a thing exists. You can be completely passive to enjoy a snow day. No meetings, no classes, no problems, nothing to turn in, and since tomorrow is Friday, we would get a long weekend. This is way too good to be true. The freezing rain just hangs off to the west, shutting everything down in its path, but the truth is, nothing is falling in Waco. Oh, there’s a fine mist out there, but the ground is warm and the roads are still passable, so I suspect that my dream will not come true. Yet, wouldn’t it be lovely to get an extra day of vacation right when you most need it?

On a hypothetical snow day

Posted on by

It is the eternal dream of all children, old and young, to get a day off from work and school because of bad winter weather. No, I don’t expect a foot of snow tomorrow, but it could ice up really good overnight which would make driving prohibitive, or at least very dangerous. Driving in snow isn’t easy, and you can slide around a bit, but driving on ice, well, just isn’t possible. If you have no friction between wheel and road, you don’t have any driving either–you just have lots of sliding, and sliding is bad in a two ton vehicle. The dream of a day off from the regular grind is more tantalizing than finding free money because even if you find free money, you still have to do something to enjoy it. A snow day is enjoyed by doing nothing more than staying home. You don’t have to get dressed, you can drink a second cup of coffee, you might take a nap or even read a book–watch an old movie, maybe. The hustle and bustle of December is stressful, but a snow day is a de-stressor, if such a thing exists. You can be completely passive to enjoy a snow day. No meetings, no classes, no problems, nothing to turn in, and since tomorrow is Friday, we would get a long weekend. This is way too good to be true. The freezing rain just hangs off to the west, shutting everything down in its path, but the truth is, nothing is falling in Waco. Oh, there’s a fine mist out there, but the ground is warm and the roads are still passable, so I suspect that my dream will not come true. Yet, wouldn’t it be lovely to get an extra day of vacation right when you most need it?