Inkstains

Of course, there is another way to view weather as a “hobby.” That is, tracking the models, diving into the blogs, digesting the data, worrying the trends, scouring the climo histories, bickering with those who dare voice contrary thoughts, hunting for those clever tell-all GIFs, outdoing the last person’s wishcasts, furiously throwing in the towel at the teasing fails – all in quest of the oh-so elusive, sublime, joyful 24 hours that my grandfather would describe as, “Nice day, eh?” Imagine when you can open the windows, peel off a layer or two, kick off the down comforter, before the Zika/Lime mosquitoes start buzzing but after brittle trees stop falling on innocent houses, in between the bitter-season power outages that spoil everything in the freezer; after you lay down $8,000 to get the furnace working again but before the AC loses refrigerant, in the sweet spot between single digits and triple digits, before high-pressure sweat plasters our hair to our faces but after the low-pressure systems pass and allow us to remove the scarves that hide them, after we drain the gas from the snow blowers that haven’t run for years and won’t start when we need them but before NOAA mobilizes the crack Hurricane Hunters. Imagine when the roads and cars and sidewalks aren’t white with salt, when the barbecue beckons, when wake to songbirds instead of thunder? When will the models give us hope for nice not nasty? When will we yearn for sublime not severe? Nah, never mind. What kind of weather hobby would that be?

Here, here.

For a 1st post, let me express my thanks. I’ve been dialing in for almost a year now, and learned a lot -- chiefly about re-calibrating the meaning of weather after a life-time on the West Coast. It’s too late now to try and catch up with the intimidatingly knowledgeable folks here, but I think I’m catching on a little. A tip of my hat to you all. May you get the snow you want. Tally ho.