Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
And yea, verily, snow did come unto the valley, kissing all with fat white lips and leaving its imprint. But lo, clouds parted, and the sun did see the snow and said, let me shine on the scene, and thus most of the snow was melted away, although remnants remained as a mark of what hath transpired. Or something like that.
Today is Thursday, December 16, 2021. Yesterday was a snow battle arena here. Snowed and rained alternatively throughout the daylight hours with the temperature darting up to 35 and slinking down to 31 during the same period. Darkness would stretch hands over us and the lights would come on. Then the sun managed a mild breakthrough and sunlight dazzled us.
That’s down here. The story on the upper elevations, say over 3,000 feet, had a solid snow onslaught. A boon for the snowpack but a curse on the Interstate. Siskiyou Pass on I5 was closed, and the California side remains closed. Stopped cars and trucks snaked alongside the Interstate for miles. Online videos show harrowing scenes of sliding and spun-out vehicles. Onramps were blocked by emergency vehicles sending their blue, red, and amber marks into the night, signs, and orange pylons. Winter was here.
Now it’s 36 F. Sunny with bloated and uneasy clouds crowding in like shoppers on the last shopping day. A mix of rain and snow is expected with highs in the lows 40s. Daylight began at 7:33 AM and will cease at 4:40 PM.
A Peter Gabriel song featuring Kate Bush is hovering over the morning mental music stream. I’ve featured it before and am disinclined to dub it this day’s theme music. Fortunately, Simple Minds song was recalled. I told the cat — Papi, who keeps trying to believe that the weather is gonna improve at any second, but is then driven back in by the mean elements — “Come in, get out of the rain.” Also, come in, get out of the snow. And the cold. And the wind. Anyway, these exhortations triggered memory of the song, “Waterfront”.
Hope you enjoy it. Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the booster and vaccine jabs when you can. There’s a new variant in town, you know. We’re all watching to see what they’ll do.
Hey, look at that. Time for coffee. Cheers
I dreamed I was driving a BMW M1 in a dream last night. The road was slushy and snowy and the car was dark green. I was having a ball sliding the powerful, capable car around curves and slamming down straights, managing the direction as the car attempted to fishtail and spin.
Awakening and thinking about the dream kept a smile on my face. Although I know of the BMW M1, I’ve never actually seen one. It’s a rare model. Research shows it was produced from 1978 to 1981, with four hundred fifty-three cars built. A mid-engine mounted sports car, it was powerful and capable, with output coming from a straight six engine. Top speed was 164 MPH and 0-60 MPH was about 6.4 seconds. These aren’t brilliant numbers these days, but back then, that performance put it in a special category.
Of course, the query in my head is why that car in that dream? I often think of my dream cars as representing me. It’s pleasing now to think that I’m a rare but outdated exotic sports car who used to be capable of performance that impressed others. Carrying the analogy further, now I’m just an old rarity, long out of production, and infrequently seen.
I like the green in the snow though, you know? You can see why, right?
Blue sky and sunshine are absent today. Snow and a 34 degree temp have control, though the snow is a mealy splatter pattern. Winter is taking control in Ashland, Oregon.
Today is January 25 of 2021. We’re racing toward the end of the first month of the year. Can the year still be called? How many miles must be acquired before we start referring to it as a gently used year? Sunrise came at 7:31 AM while sunset is expected at 5:16 PM.
Yesterday’s day of snow was entertaining. Snow sizes and styles morphed. I’d see little pellets shooting down, but a short period later would find fat flakes fluttering past. The consistent question shared between me and my wife was, “Is in sticking?” No, too warm.
I went out back, barefoot, in my jeans and shirt, to do a spin in the snow, catch some on my tongue and hands, watch them crash toward me, and breath in the frosty ambiance. After coming back from that, when I looked out later, I saw a person walking their dog down the street through thickening flurries. I thought, I see myself in the falling snow, remembering all the times when I’d walked through such snow, reflecting on the different periods of life and those locations. My mind provided background music by starting “South Side” by Moby with Gwen Stefani (2001).
It was an amusing twist on my mind’s part. Moby sings about seeing himself in the light and seeing himself in the rain. I’d been thinking about seeing myself in the snow.
Chuckle. Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask, and get vaccinated. Cheers
Mom was born and raised in a little town called Turin, Iowa. Dad was in the military, stationed not far away when they met. When he went overseas on assignment, Mom took the children and moved in with her in-laws in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.
Whenever she talks about those times, it’s with delighted and happy wistfulness. Dad and Mom divorced but Mom says she never fell out of love with his family. It must be true; after we’d moved around the country while Dad was in the military, she returned to Pittsburgh and grew her roots over sixty years ago.
I’ve asked her, “Why Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania?” Now, her children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren are all there, and so she’ll remain. But back then, why?
…she loves the people of Pittsburgh, its hills, bridges, and history, the change of seasons, and summer thunderstorms. More than anything, she loves it when it snows there. When big snowstorms strike, she turns on the heat, opens the curtains and watches the snow.
Back when I was a child in her household, I’d charge outside to play in the snow. Hours later, I’d return. Everything would be stripped off in the basement to be hung up to dry or tossed in the dryer. Hot soup with cheese sandwiches or hot chocolate with marshmallows would inevitably follow, depending on the hour.
I’m thinking of this today because she sent me a video via FB. It’s Frank Sinatra singing, “Let It Snow”. I laughed immediately; I’d seen the weather forecast for Pittsburgh and saw the forecasts for snow, and thought, that’ll make Mom happy.
She always claims we have a psychic connection. Here’s the video. I know all the words. Mom played it back when I was growing up in Pittsburgh whenever the snow began to fall. Listening to it and thinking of her, I just need to smile.
I was driving. Wife with me, I was following instructions to my new home.
There was a twist. I was keeping my old home, but, per the instructions, I’d been rewarded with more space.
Pleased and excited, I drove along winding roads through green countryside, toward…my old home. But slowing within visual of my old home, I told my wife, “It says to turn left here,” so I did.
There…was my new ‘additional’ home, on the right.
Huge, set back on a sprawling green lawn, it startled me. This was mine…too. Yes, according to the instructions. I parked. My wife and I entered the house, walking around and gawking. Furnished, it was ready for us to move in. I discovered it had a pool in the back, which really excited me. Checking out the area, I discovered the road my new house was on looped around back to my old house, making it easy to go back and forth between the two.
My friend, Kevin arrived. He and his family were moving to the area. He said that they needed a place to stay. Happily, I informed him, “You can stay here. I have a guest house.” After I showed him and he agreed, I said, “And I have a pool, so I’m going to take a swim before I dress for work.
The dream shifted. I’d joined a group. We were about to explore our new little town. It was covered in snowy white, and a large map in the sky showed me the route to take. Twenty of us piled into five cars. I drove the lead car. Though the town was supposed to be new to me, I was familiar with it, so I took on the role of tour guide.
Our first stop was at a coffee shop. The young male barista shared a photo with me of a large red coffee cup. This was, he explained, painted on the landing of a local ski jump. It was where he’d proposed marriage to his girlfriend.
I shared this info with my group. Getting back into the cars, I drove us downtown. We jumped out of the cars and ran through the snow on the sidewalk. In a few moments, I realized, we’re at the sky jump. “Look! There’s the big red cup of coffee.” I pointed it out everyone.
We then chatted about that, which was where the dream ended.
Thinking about disasters as I was walking yesterday. Australia is struggling to catch a break this year, going from bushfires to rain to flooding. Indonesia continues having a tough time, quakes in Puerto Rico, and flooding in Chicago.
Then there’s the snow. A winter storm passed through here, giving us a couple inches. Trudging through the aftermath, we’re grateful because it helps the snowbanks, an important source of summer water, even while many mildly rue and curse the snow. Come on, it’s snow, and disrupts our easy ways and pleasantries with its cold intrusion.
It’s impressive how tiny flakes can add up. Our flakes went from normal or average sized to supersized flakes, back to normal before dropping into tiny. All still added up.
These thoughts took me to a Kate Bush 2011 song, “50 Words for Snow”. I enjoy her but I’m mostly aware of this song because Stephen Fry is the one giving the words. Fry delivers them like he’s tasting the expressions. Then Kate goes on with a chorus, “Come on, man,” telling him how many more words he has to go. I don’t hear this song often, originally hearing it by chance on NPR (“Is that Stephen Fry?”) but have since listened to it on the ‘puter, trying to understand all the words for snow. I find it satisfying and contemplative.
Like snow.
head feels like lead
you’re stuck in bed
blame it on the snow
blame it on the snow
you’re feeling low
and have nowhere to go
blame it on the snow
blame it on the snow
life is passing you by
counting days until you die
blame it on the snow
blame it on the snow
stuffing your face
with cheese and cake
blame it on the snow
blame it on the snow
can’t get to work
pet’s acting like a jerk
blame it on the snow
blame it on the snow
nothing’s on tv
not live or on the stream
blame it on the snow
blame it on the snow
can’t find a mate
being alone is your fate
blame it on the snow
blame it on the snow
you can’t tell a lie
you ate too much pie
blame it on the snow
blame it on the snow
it’s a day without sun
now you’ve got the runs
blame it on the snow
blame it on the snow
blame it on the snow
Floofdance (floofinition) – Dance conducted by animals, often to celebrate an event or in joyous response to the music that they hear.
In use: “Seeing snow for the first time, the gray kitten began a floofdance on the porch as the flakes floated down around him.”
Michael Seidel, writer 