Been reading the weather repots and all of the cold temps, all time record cold. The folks down south have a trouble dealing with cold and snow. They deal with it so seldom that they go into panic mode. This past storm was bitter cold but not as bad as the one we had two weeks ago. Then the temps were 20-30 below zero. That was almost cold. Not since I was in NE Canada on the north Atlantic did I feel the bitterness of knifing cold blades on the skin.
There cold was measured in indexes, how fast exposed flesh will freeze. At the worst index flesh would freeze in less then 60 seconds. I met that bitter blade a couple of times up there and it was no fun. My deep breathing caused a minor panic once when I took a deep breath and my lungs were biting me. Tiny ice crystals had formed in the lungs and until I thawed out some I was gasping for breath. After that experience I do not complain real loud about the cold, oh I may curse the icy wind but I also understand if I dress for it I can deal with it.
The winter storms clear the air out and afterwards it is clear blue sky and maybe a cloud or two. It is not like the drab grey winters of the mid west and east. Here the dry air clears up and the sun does shine. temps will be in the 50’s by the weekend. It is also these blasts of wind and snow that bring the spring flowers, so I say thanks, I just do not appreciate the icy fingers grabbing my throat.
Went out the morning after the storm to grab a few pictures. It was about zero that morning.
I love the effects the wind has on the flakes.
The shade creates a depth and there is a soft texture.
In the pasture the grass peeks out of the snow, the bunnies sun bathing nest is now a snow castle.
Plants cast patterns on the snow they collected.
A list to the wind as the grass will bloom green this coming spring.
Across the land the wind howled carrying a knife, slicing through the land covering in blankets white, covering soul and fearsome times lay out there, A moment in time if forgotten, a memory the be tossed to the next generation, Cracker barrels no longer resonate of tales of old, coffee curls its warmth, out the window staring at the palette of nature being painted.