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Dear John,
There's a whole lot of sublimation going on. The temperature went into the 40s, so all that snow has been busy vaporizing and turning into fog. Area schools were on a 2-hour delay. I was on a 1-hour delay leaving for work. I'd hoped the fog would clear some by then. But it didn't clear a bit all day. It was dark when I came home, and not at all fun to drive in, even at 30 mph.
The yard is mostly mud now; there's very little left of that eight inches of snow. And there is standing water everywhere. What will happen over the weekend is anybody's guess. We know there will be precipitation of some sort almost all weekend. But the temperature is supposed to stay right around freezing. We will have rain, freezing rain, snow, some combination of those, or perhaps igloop. You can never discount the chance of igloop.
It was beautiful. The fields are lovely when there's sublimation. There's white snow and white fog, and everything trails off into emptiness. Whether you're looking at the road ahead or the fields outside your house, you see white on white disappearing into more white. There's actually a lot of light because everything is reflective on days like these. And fog seems to absorb sound; it's the most silent thing I know. Nothing moves - if there was any wind then there wouldn't be fog. And animals stay still when they can't see very far. I can stand on my front porch and look out across the fields, and see nothing move, hear no sound. There's a still, mysterious, silent heaviness to everything. You're wrapped in your own quilt of white, apart from the rest of the world, and nothing can reach you.
Anyway, I like foggy days. I prefer not to drive in dense fog, but if you take the deserted roads you're not likely to meet much traffic and you can go as slow as you need to. And you will still be wrapped up in your own little white quilt.
I'll miss you tonight, sleeping alone with the dense silent fog outside. I'll miss you more if I'm snowed or iced in this weekend. I have plans for Saturday and church on Sunday, but I'll watch the weather and road reports and won't take chances. Your little family loves and misses you.
Adore you,
Joan.
The yard is mostly mud now; there's very little left of that eight inches of snow. And there is standing water everywhere. What will happen over the weekend is anybody's guess. We know there will be precipitation of some sort almost all weekend. But the temperature is supposed to stay right around freezing. We will have rain, freezing rain, snow, some combination of those, or perhaps igloop. You can never discount the chance of igloop.
It was beautiful. The fields are lovely when there's sublimation. There's white snow and white fog, and everything trails off into emptiness. Whether you're looking at the road ahead or the fields outside your house, you see white on white disappearing into more white. There's actually a lot of light because everything is reflective on days like these. And fog seems to absorb sound; it's the most silent thing I know. Nothing moves - if there was any wind then there wouldn't be fog. And animals stay still when they can't see very far. I can stand on my front porch and look out across the fields, and see nothing move, hear no sound. There's a still, mysterious, silent heaviness to everything. You're wrapped in your own quilt of white, apart from the rest of the world, and nothing can reach you. Anyway, I like foggy days. I prefer not to drive in dense fog, but if you take the deserted roads you're not likely to meet much traffic and you can go as slow as you need to. And you will still be wrapped up in your own little white quilt.
I'll miss you tonight, sleeping alone with the dense silent fog outside. I'll miss you more if I'm snowed or iced in this weekend. I have plans for Saturday and church on Sunday, but I'll watch the weather and road reports and won't take chances. Your little family loves and misses you.
Adore you,
Joan.
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