 |
| The view upstream this morning |
I am not a weather oracle. Let's make that perfectly clear at the outset. I possess no precognitive powers, and do not own a crystal ball nor a set of goose bones. The only tea leaves I read are those in the bottom of my cup which informs me when it's time for a refill.
 |
| Snow on riverside deck rail…under two inches. |
However, yesterday's extended hoopla of adrenalized predictions by the professional pundits—"major winter storm," "significant accumulation," blah, blah, blah—just didn't square with what my gut instincts about the coming situation kept indicating. Admittedly, sometimes my "gut instincts" turn out to be the result of that chili dog I had for breakfast. Therefore, while I wouldn't have bet my best fly rod against the paid professionals, given the opportunity I might have gone a cup of coffee and a large wedge of homemade apple pie at my favorite country café…which, since I'd be having my own pie slice and cuppa, would ameliorate any sting of losing.
I did voice my doubts in yesterday's semi-ranting post: "I wouldn't be surprised if the end result turned out to be a couple of inches of wet snow…" is the exact quote—and as it turned out, a smack-on precursive call, prophesy, forecast, or prognostication. Pick your noun. I'll settle for guess. The forewarned snow arrived about 8:30 p.m. and fizzled before midnight. Total accumulation as revealed by morning's cloudy light: something under two inches. Wet and sticky, already melting.
The riverbank augur got it right! Hummm-m-m? Now that I think about it, I believe such a dazzling feat deserves more than mere self-awarded accolades…I'm pretty sure—no, make that absolutely convinced!—that the fair and just reward for such a display of evisionary accuracy is that aforementioned large wedge of homemade apple pie and cup of coffe at my favorite country café.
Please excuse me while I go collect.
 |
| Miss Cardinal thinks I deserve pie, too. I never disobey redbirds. |
8 comments:
Only got about 5 inches here--a short 5 inches (or a long 4 if you prefer)--and it's already melting!
It snowed all night into the early morning hours here in Warren County, just a few miles below you. Flakes bigger than I've ever seen, silver dollar size. Woke to seven inches of snow, our tall bamboo is bent to the ground, but it's pretty out there!
Carolyn…
Sorry to be so slow in replying…Myladylove's down with the flu or some viral whatever, so I've been dealing with that and doctor's appointments, etc., and have not been in my writing room or online since posting yesterday.
The snow here melted all day yesterday, and continues to melt today—what's left of it. And it was sloppy wet to beging with! Really quite a mess out there. Temperatures through the weekend and first of next week are supposed to be in the 50s˚F. Then—naturally—back down to upper-30s˚. Ahhh, the fickleness of spring.
Wanda…
Sorry to not answer sooner, it's been kind of a disrupted mess here since yesterday afternoon. (See my reply to Carolyn.)
I guess folks to the south of here got a lot more snow than we received. My daughter lives near Centerville and she said they had six inches—and was hacked off that we only had something less than two. She's a child psychologist, and a big portion of her clients/patients come from northern-Cincinnati, Mason, Lebanon, etc., so she ended up with a fair number of cancellations.
I've seen such huge snowflakes only a few times. And here, the snow night-before-last didn't produce anything over the normal range. I guess because we were just on the edge of the snow band. Myladylove, who lived on an island along the Inside Passage in Alaska for several years, says one of the things she really misses about that place is the often huge snowflakes, fifty-cent to silver-dollar size.
Hey, maybe we can have to have a talk one of these days, exchange some info about bamboo. I put some out a neighbor gave me last year, but I'm not sure what it is or whether it's doing much. I'd like to plant another patch, maybe of one of the old native species, say, like the one of Kentucky "canebrake" fame, which was also found along the Ohio River and parts of southeastern Ohio, and still exists here in the state in a few isolated locations.
On this side of the pond the BBC are always looking for new weathermen, Grizz. The job awaits you! Though these days they do seem to prefer weather gals with winsome smiles and wearing low-cut dresses to adorn our screens. (Not that I'm saying you haven't a sexy grin — but that country clothing, not to mention curmudgeonly attitude, just wouldn't do at all.)
So perhaps you'd better stay put in paradise, gut instincts and all, and keep that sassy frock in the wardrobe.
Solitary…
Well, huh! And just when I was feeling rather good about a possible career change to the fabled chalkstream lands of Halford and Skues. In spite of your reservations, I believe I could bring a bit of rough and tumble to the stuffy ol' BBC's roster weather forecasters—still keeping the "country wear" look, mind you. I already own a sufficiently dowdy Barbour jacket, and I could pick up a pair of green Wellies. But I would mix it up with the latest in fashionable hillbilly attire, with a scoosh of jackpine savage spring coordinates…nothing fancy, just straight-off-the-shelf stuff in canvas and camo. Such smart dress and my sexy grin out to do the rest. Plus I won't have to shave my chest to don that fetching new frock. (How'd you know about that frock, anyway?)
I think that weather pundits have succumbed to the media hysteria--everything has to be a mega-whatever. So they catastrophize everything. Note the number of reporters dispatched to stand outside in whatever--just to show how awful the weather event is.
KGMom…
I know many of those involved with the collecting of weather data are dedicated professionals who love what they do. And I'm interested in hearing what they think. Really.
But…
When the whole process gets mixed into a TV production, with talking heads and "on the scene" stand-ups, ratings and demographics, sponsorship, "personalities," and the constant struggles to gain and improve viewership, maintain airtime and cable space, and clamber up the corporate/showbiz ladder—well, I get turned off. I dislike the constant doom-and-gloom, dramatics, breathlessly delivered, with the latest gee-whiz technology in the background, the mountain-out-of-a-molehill hoopla, sounding like it came straight from the pages of Chicken Little, plus the not quite concealed machinations of self-serving wheels and deals…this, well just plain infuriates me. All I want to know is will that shower—which I can see for myself building in the west—arrive before I get my licks in on stream smallmouth, or should I carry a rain jacket? I don't need the Soap Opera 7000-page mega-epic version; just the facts. I'll find my own entertainment elsewhere.
Post a Comment