The Christmas break is about over, in terms of brutal weather. You can tell the north is up to no good when the isobars are straight north-south all the way from high pressure in the the Canadian Rockies to low pressure east of Greenland.
When these surges of cold come south you look for a storm to brew up, but the storm south of us looks like it is being swept right out to sea before the cold air can catch up to it, and turn it into a blizzard. There is too much of a gap between the first cool front, with polar air behind it, and the second that indicates the arrival of the truly arctic air.
It would be fine with me if all the storms stayed south of here, and we just saw the lakes freeze up and make for good skating. The ski areas wouldn’t be happy, but maybe we could arrange for some flurries in the higher hills.
The problem is that, during some of these 1970’s-style winters, the arrival of the cold brings about huge surges of warm air back north. The winter of 1977-1978 springs to mind, with three blizzards, two in the east and one in Ohio. (Check out the end of the December 17 post for details of those storms.) https://sunriseswansong.wordpress.com/2014/12/17/local-view-to-snow-or-no/
Currently it looks like the surge of the warmth will occur across the Atlantic. As a cold high pressure settles down and brings a winter cold front as far south as north Africa, with cold, east winds on the south side of the high pressure, a rebound of milder air will rush up around the top of the high pressure, and the UK Met is showing a New Year’s Day where it might be milder in Sweden than in Sicily. (We’ll see about that.)
I’m not sure why I’m looking at Europe. I should pay attention to what is in front of my nose, which is a opportunity created by an open winter. The last of the Thanksgiving snowstorm has melted away, and the forest floor has gone from white snows to being leafy and brown.
I could use a spell with the woods staying snow-free, to get a bit of firewood out. We’ve used up more than I planned on, with the kids home and a baby in the house. Also I don’t need the work of snow-removal, for I’m feeling in the mood to write outside of this blog, and it is making me restless. If I disappear it will be because I’ve taken a time machine back to the early 1970’s, as that is what I want to write about.
Cabin fever, though the woods are snowless.
Cabin fever, though the days are fair.
Cabin fever, and it shows I grow less
Wise with time. Age makes me unaware.
Now my cabin is my flinching body,
That cringes from invigorating gales,
But my spirit still is hip, wild and gaudy
And longs to grip ropes and set winter sails.
“Let me out of here!” My restless spirit
Paces past eye-windows of discontent.
My songs creak and quaver, and I can hear it
And hush, and wonder where a lifetime went.
“What’s the point?” The answer is grim and clear.
Beethoven wrote best when he couldn’t hear.