Well, the weather has finally warmed up enough that I can reasonably wear shorts outside. Most of the snow piles have disappeared. This nasty winter seems to have claimed what I hope is its last casualty: my truck.
Poor Basil. He has suffered immensely this winter. Still, our Mini Cooper has, like us, managed to survive this record-breaking winter and has been buried in snow more times than I can recall. At least digging him out isn’t so bad most of the time since he is so small. And it certainly makes it easier to park in narrow spots nestled between snow piles.
But getting through this winter unscathed was not meant to be, I guess. Last night, on Route 99 where it goes under Rutherford Ave in Charlestown, we hit what was probably the biggest pothole I have ever seen, at least on a road that wasn’t being washed out underneath.
but we have yet another big snow storm on the way. Another blizzard, in fact.
This afternoon I got dressed to head outside for some quick errands: drop off some DVDs at the library; stop at the market across the street from the library for some milk; shovel out the steps and the walk.
And while I was out, I also got some pictures.
Well. As I said to one of our neighbors recently, “I like winter, but I am not used to getting it all at once.” This winter may have started off pretty mild, but starting at the end of January, we have now gotten a ridiculous amount of snow. In fact, we broke a record for most snow in a 10 day period. And now we are in the middle of the third major winter storm in two weeks.
To some extent, the same is true after Snowpocalypseageddon here in Greater Boston. Everyone has already fought for the last loaf of bread or gallon of milk, so the next thing to fight over is parking spots. And boy, do people get medieval about those.
You may not know this (I am assuming a lot of Amish read our blog), but we are going to get a lot of snow very soon.
Yes, clearly we are already headed for the history books on this one and it hasn’t even happened yet. I think we have already broken records, mostly in regard to media hype. “I’ll take apocalyptic references to the Blizzard of 1978 for $500, Alex.” The French Toast alert system is so far into red that it’s gone way into the infrared spectrum. Everywhere I go, it’s Blizzard Freakout mode, and the handful of people being reflective are talking about the big one of 1978. It’s like I am attending a history conference about that massive weather event of my childhood.