We had a brief burst of snow just as I was finishing my closure of our Farm-Childcare for another week. It sent me scurrying home to look at the maps and radar.
I’m glad I got the wood onto the porch, even though it seems the resurgence of mild air is aiming right our way. We could get snow and freezing rain tonight even as Vermont gets rain and the coast clear up to Maine gets rain, because there is a pocket of valleys in southern New Hampshire that hides from the southerly flow, and clings to its cold, which settles into the low places like dandruff on a duck. (You likely have never checked a duck for dandruff, which allows me to get away with that alliteration.) I doubt the worst will occur, but I prepared for it, which will allow me to relax in the morning.
The map shows a mild scenario, with even the next high pressure way west in North Dakota looking Chinook-fed and meek. It reminds me a little of the mildness before the Thanksgiving Storm. It seems impossible it can snow heavily next Wednesday, but the weather-geeks are all abuzz about rumors of a storm.
The scenario is that energy will dig down along that cold front currently way up in Canada, west of Hudson Bay, and phase with energy dawdling behind the storm currently bringing us mildness, and together they will create an upper-air-low perfectly placed to give us snow. (Southeast of New York City.) It won’t matter that there isn’t much cold air around, for such deepening upper-air-lows “create their own cold.”
I’d say, “I’ll have to see it to believe it,” but, because I said that before the Thanksgiving Storm, and saw the Thanksgiving Storm, I’ve already seen it, and therefore can believe it. After all, weather happens in “patterns”, (although as soon as you start to recognize a “pattern” it seems to become obsolete).
In any case, I’ll see if I can budge from my comfortable chair tomorrow and behave like a person who is preparing for the worst winter ever.
However sometimes when you behave this way you wind up looking like the cartoon characters who are always lowering their shoulders to charge through a door, but just when they expect their shoulder to hit the locked door someone else opens the door, and they go flying right through the house, out the back door, and usually wind up in a puddle of mud.
This happened to me this past week when I faced one of those unpleasant jobs no one wants to do, so I do it. It involved telling a well-liked preacher at our tiny, dwindling church he was past his prime, and should retire. I gathered all my evidence, gathered my nerve, prepared for the worst, and was just raising my index finger to speak when he announced he was resigning.
Sometimes you can feel like your foot is in your mouth even though you haven’t said anything. It just goes to show you that preparing for the worst may get you into some odd situations, because sometimes the worst you need to prepare for is yourself.