In the Spring a young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of “When the fuck is this weather going to end?”
For those of you not in the Boston area, we’re expecting some more snow tomorrow. Not much, but by the official count, this will be our gazumptillionth storm of the season. I don’t know if this winter breaks any records for coldest, snowiest, most storms or what, but it definitly sets a new record for “most annoying.”
Being a rugged outdoorsman (I carry a pocket knife so I’m always equipped for any possible invasion from Switzerland.), I’m particularly beset by the prolonged arctic conditions. Bike commuting becomes difficult when your fingers freeze to the handlebars, and icicles dangle before your eyes. It doesn’t help that you have to bike over packed snow, ice patches, and the frozen remains of earlier commuters.
Meanwhile, forecasters keep warning about about snow, sleet and “frozen mix,” which sounds like some sort of Green Giant concoction. Surprisingly, they’ve underestimated most of the snowfall totals this year. Usually they’re the ones to spread panic and convenience store congestion. It’s good for the ratings. And again and again, we’re treated to live footage of this or that poor neophyte weather person standing in the midst of swirling snow and gale force winds to bring us a full account of what’s happing outside our doors.
Normally, I’m a fan of weather. I mean, I’m not one to go chasing hurricanes, but I enjoy the fact that this area has very different seasons. I still get a child-like thrill from the Currier and Ives beauty of the first snowfall.
But by now? Not so much.