This has been very good weather to be stuck at my desk, weeding my way through drifts of receipts, doing taxes. It remains my least favorite job, but it would be worse if the weather was glorious, and the hills of New Hampshire were misted with the first strawberry hues of budding red maples. As it is the buds are staying shut.
The cold east wind persists, though the light snow seems to be at last giving way to rain. It is amazing how the cold has refused to budge, despite the onslaught of of a southwest flow that had temperatures up to 70° (21.1° Celsius) in western Pennsylvania yesterday. (Click maps, or open to new tabs, to clarify and enlarge.)
Yesterday there was a two hour delay opening school, and I even heard a plow scrape by (though mostly the roads only needed salt; I think the plow was for a little higher in the hills, as a hundred feet in altitude can make a big difference during these storms). We had about an inch of sleet and ice, and, with temperatures down to 28° (-2.2° Celsius) yesterday morning, it meant everything was crusted. People had to wrestle with scraping windshields clean, or else start their car and go back inside for ten minutes and let the heater do the work. I was just thankful it wasn’t worse, and I didn’t have to stop taxes to shovel and snow-blow at the Childcare.
This morning it has “warmed” to 31° (-0.6 Celsius), as we are one of the last pockets of sub-freezing temperatures around. Even up in Montreal it is 39° (+3.9° Celsius), and way up in Moosonee, at the southern end of the still-frozen Hudson Bay, it is 34°. (+1.1° Celsius). Yet when you look northeast to Nova Scotia, you can see the cold lurking, with temperatures on its north coast at 8° at Donkin and 11° at Sydney (-13.3° and -11.7° Celsius). So you can see why we frown at a northeast wind.
The radar doesn’t show drizzle and very light snow. We’ve been drab and dank for days now. The radar shows the rain charging towards us, as if we are about to see our hills swept by southwest breezes, but the warm air is lifted by the cold that has settled over us.
This morning it is 66° (18.9° Celsius) in Youngstown, just east of Pittsburgh Pennsylvania, but when you move further east into and over the mountains it is 40° (4.4 Celsius) at Harrisburg. The warm air gets lifted by the mountains, and never comes back down.
That’s fine with me. I am up to last July in my stack of tax receipts, and remembering sweltering days and buying chemicals for our little 4-foot-deep raised-pool at the Childcare, (after the water turned an odd shade of orange, and then green). In my imagination the sweat is trickling down the middle of my back, and I’m longing for a cool east wind.
(April in New England, and also taxes, can make you a bit delusional.)