The weather keeps getting stranger and stranger. Last month, I saw more snow than had ever fallen in Austin in my life. This week will be the lowest temps we’ve ever weathered, dipping into single digits. We received a text from the county at lunch, urging folks not to travel for the next several days. The grocery stores are bare of meat, eggs, and milk.
Only days ago, spring had begun its first bloom, and now this.
Our oak tree, which had just begun to bud and stretched over 20 feet into the air, is now bowed down to the grass, branches breaking off every few hours.
Every home in our city has broken branches in its yard.
And our holly bush appears frozen in time, if not weeping from the sudden frost. Strange days indeed.
When the sky becomes so cold that water becomes a solid, that sky needs to go away. That sky needs to summon the sunlight and warm it up to a temperature in which a human can function. Whipping biting bone-chilling wind is the devil, especially when one is trying to pump one’s overpriced gasoline into one’s aging Japanese car. Give me 110 degrees over this any day.
Okay, Canada. Okay, Yankees up there above the Mason-Dixon line. Bring it. Tell me what a wuss I am and how awesome it is to ski in frosty weather, and how your snowman is the bomb. Tell me 20 degrees ain’t nothin’, that you’ve skinnydipped in Arctic waters and liked it and you can hardly wait to do it again. No, thank you.
The weatherman predicts colder weather in the morrow, but really, does it matter? Cold is cold. And he’s not losing his job even if it turns out to be cloudy with a chance of meatballs.