Spring Snow

Last snow of the season today and the flakes are falling hard. The wind howls like the frigid wind called the Hawk, rapidly, whistling, and out of the grey sky, then dies down momentarily, only to pick up again with intense fury.

We have our own microclimate and wind tunnel which intensifies around our house. The wind blows from the river and picks up speed past the tree line, into the meadow and then up the hill.

I feel giddy watching snow fall in big flakes, like the kid long ago sticking my nose to the cold windowpane in excited expectation of enough inches of fluffiness to sled, make snowmen, and when it froze hard, skate.

Falling hard and repeatedly on patches of ice was no big deal in my childhood, but it echoes achingly in my joints on days like today when the weather turns so drastically from 70 degrees Fahrenheit to 12 degrees Fahrenheit in less than 24 hours.

Some birds are chirping excitedly, one brave squirrel is foraging for nuts in my garden, digging furiously, while deer and foxes are in hiding, taking shelter from the blustery temperatures. It’s hard to believe that it will be in the 80s F next week.

The wild cherry tree buds have fallen like a magenta blanket. They budded too early and the intense freeze killed them all. The Japanese magnolia buds are still hanging on for dear life. I hope they survive.

Global warmists must be giddy with excitement that the cold weather is "definitive proof" of their irrational fear mongering of climate Armageddon.