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shewhomustI feel like a fraud, posting about the weather: if my f-list does nothing else, it certainly gives me a perspective on this subject. ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cellio says "Yesterday we finally got up into double-digit temperatures. Sure, the first digit was a "1", but I'll take it. (Monday was symmetrical: the high was 5, and the low was -5.)", while Neil Gaiman reports from Minnesota "(Right now it's warmed up to minus 19 F outside.)" (and these are Fahrenheit, remember). Admittedly, it's spring in California, but I'm not sure that counts. Even in London (and south of the river, what's more), valydiarosada has been snowed in.
Meanwhile, in the frozen north: last Saturday we were picnicking above Hamsterley Forest. A sequence of clear days, brought cold frosty nights, with the chill lingering in the valleys but warmed off the flanks of the hills as soon as the sun was up. Then for the past few days, much the same, but with a sprinkling of snow, waking to see the thinnest layer of white, not so much a blanket as a threadbare sheet, with the green already showing through. Despite all the warnings, nothing to write home about.
Which made us overconfident. This morning we set out to visit Broom House Farm and buy some meat. Our own road (not a through road, and quite a steep hill) was already clearing, and past the junction the roads were completely clear - until we reached the village where we turned off for the farm. The road was covered with packed snow, but not thickly so, and we took it easy, glad to be tackling this drive in the sunshine, compared to our drive in the dark from Angoulême last year. Took it too easy, in fact, and realised that we barely had the impetus to make it up the hill. And then, on the last stretch, with the farm practically in sight on the summit, that we didn't have the impetus, we weren't making it up the hill, and that trying to force the car onwards was simply sketching black arabesques of road surface in the slick snow.
There was nothing for it but to retreat and do all our shopping at the supermarket, so that's what we did.
cellio says "Yesterday we finally got up into double-digit temperatures. Sure, the first digit was a "1", but I'll take it. (Monday was symmetrical: the high was 5, and the low was -5.)", while Neil Gaiman reports from Minnesota "(Right now it's warmed up to minus 19 F outside.)" (and these are Fahrenheit, remember). Admittedly, it's spring in California, but I'm not sure that counts. Even in London (and south of the river, what's more), valydiarosada has been snowed in.Meanwhile, in the frozen north: last Saturday we were picnicking above Hamsterley Forest. A sequence of clear days, brought cold frosty nights, with the chill lingering in the valleys but warmed off the flanks of the hills as soon as the sun was up. Then for the past few days, much the same, but with a sprinkling of snow, waking to see the thinnest layer of white, not so much a blanket as a threadbare sheet, with the green already showing through. Despite all the warnings, nothing to write home about.
Which made us overconfident. This morning we set out to visit Broom House Farm and buy some meat. Our own road (not a through road, and quite a steep hill) was already clearing, and past the junction the roads were completely clear - until we reached the village where we turned off for the farm. The road was covered with packed snow, but not thickly so, and we took it easy, glad to be tackling this drive in the sunshine, compared to our drive in the dark from Angoulême last year. Took it too easy, in fact, and realised that we barely had the impetus to make it up the hill. And then, on the last stretch, with the farm practically in sight on the summit, that we didn't have the impetus, we weren't making it up the hill, and that trying to force the car onwards was simply sketching black arabesques of road surface in the slick snow.
There was nothing for it but to retreat and do all our shopping at the supermarket, so that's what we did.
