Posts Tagged ‘sleet’
Barely Noticed
We knew it was coming, so when snowflakes started to fly, we didn’t make much of a fuss over it. While Cyndie was in the middle of a phone conversation, I noticed her gesturing to direct my attention toward windows. The rain was changing over to sleety flakes.
Not a big deal, but it was enough that I decided to take a picture of the first snow of the season. Then, we got on with some rewarding indoor activities. I cleaned out some drawers of accumulated clothing and successfully took action on several things that have been stored for years and rarely worn anymore.
We were in the closet of winter gear, digging for coats to walk Asher and feed the horses in blowing rain and snow that was strikingly similar to Icelandic conditions. Cyndie decided to sort and give away worthy items discovered in there, and soon, we were on our way to earning a decluttering badge for the day.
The next time we looked out the window, we were surprised that we’d barely noticed how much the snow had intensified.
I thought it was still too warm for us to get any accumulation.
Alas, it was too warm for snow to last very long, and as fast as it arrived, it melted away again. It was a bit surprising to find we collected almost 2” of moisture in the rain gauge by the end of yesterday.
Like she often does, Cyndie found a way to squeeze in some baking between closet cleaning and crafting her latest secret art projects. She made a dozen small loaves of bread –six cranberry orange and six banana nut with chocolate bits.
The house smelled delicious when I woke up from an afternoon nap in the recliner.
Not a bad way to close out the month and usher in something that feels a bit more appropriate for November. Uncharacteristically, all my winter coat options are neatly organized and hanging in the freshly cleaned closet before I actually need to put them to use.
Mia got an early chance to wear her winter coat yesterday after Cyndie found her shivering excessively in the cold rain. Some days, I wish we could just bring Mia up to the house with Asher and us when the other horses are behaving like mean girls to her.
Swings stands under that overhang, warm and dry all day long, Light often by her side. Mix moves in and out a lot and rarely stays dry. Poor Mia barely sneaks her head under to eat bites of hay from a net bag, always ready to retreat if one of the other three decides to claim that space.
The precipitation moved away to the east last night, so all four horses probably headed out into the fields where Mia would be able to claim whatever space away from them she wanted.
We had the heat on and slept snuggly under warm blankets all night, barely noticing how far below freezing the temperature ultimately dropped.
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Brutal Weather
Have I mentioned how much I detest rain in winter? Yes. Yes, I have mentioned it. Yesterday, we got everything the weather forecast promised. Starting with a freezing drizzle that was barely perceptible, beyond the fact the handles of my tools were developing a slippery coating. That transitioned into plain old sleet which then magically turned into a brief spurt of rainfall. Just enough rain to make a mess of everything.
Might as well top that off with some heavy snow, eh? You know, that 1-2 inch-per-hour rate stuff. Luckily, we caught a break as the system spun and our region only received a short amount of that snow before we were graced with a few hours in the eye of the storm, void of any precipitation.
If you were a horse in this kind of weather, what would you do?
After a few days without blankets, I covered the horses back up on Monday while they were dry to give them some protection from the wetness that arrived yesterday. Now, just because they have blankets on, that is no reason to become heedless of the elements.
Apparently, the chestnuts, Light, and Mia, figured they would be protected beneath the bare branches of the dying willow tree in the small paddock.
I have no idea if they noticed it wasn’t doing much toward keeping them dry.
I don’t know what Mix was thinking.
So close. Maybe, once she got her head out of the falling ice/flakes/raindrops, she figured that was good enough.
If I were a horse, I hope I would choose the option Swings smartly relies upon for comfort and well-being.
Dry as can be, which is quite a feat in the kind of weather giving us the business yesterday. The kind of winter weather that conjures up the word brutal in my mind.
Plowing and shoveling was a bitch. It’s heart-attack snow. It’s hurt your back shoveling kind of snow. It is “slip while trying to shovel” conditions. It’s just. Plain. Brutal.
How many days till spring?
Not that I’m counting, or anything. When I was younger, winter was my favorite season.
When I was younger, it didn’t rain in the winter.
When I was younger, brutal just meant a LOT of snow, maybe a little drifting wind. Sometimes really cold. Since I wasn’t responsible for plowing or shoveling as a kid, winter storms were all fun with occasional cold wrists in the gap between my mittens and the sleeves of my snowsuit.
Getting old can be brutal.
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Commuting Roulette
The latest weather adventure to appear in our region involves a mixture of freezing mist and blowing snow. I left for work early yesterday morning, reaching my destination in good time, before the precipitation started. I decided working a short day was an option if the predicted glazing played out and threatened to turn roads into skating rinks.
About three hours into my shift, speckles of moisture started coating the window to the parking lot. Balancing the radar views with an attempt to get as much done as possible, I held out until about ten o’clock. The extra minutes I needed to spend chipping the frozen glaze off my car windows helped to assure me that my decision to leave early was justified.
If I needed any more proof of that, the two separate incidents of cars having spun out ahead of me to end up on the left shoulder, facing my approaching car head on, served as adequate confirmation.
Those were the scariest, but not the last problems to be dealt with. The next challenge came with a warning, as one of the overhead signs flashed notice of an accident ahead, with an alert to prepare to stop. To my relief, the problem was in the Westbound lanes, and I was headed east.
That one was a mess that involved a jack-knifed tractor-trailer, a lot of shredded metal, and a fleet of flashing emergency vehicles.
Surprisingly, despite all these incidents, my forward progress was barely hindered most of the way home. I drove as fast as I felt comfortable and reached our driveway in an hour and a half, as compared to the usual 60 minute drive.
Just to keep me from getting too cocky, as I braked for the turn into our welcoming driveway, my car kept right on going, sliding straight past the entrance.
I backed up, made the turn, and proceeded carefully up to the house, giving heartfelt thanks to my lucky stars.
Home, safe home, where the snow fell beautifully for a while, then turned back to that freezing slurry of icy pellets alternating with an almost invisible mist.
Cyndie recorded the sound it made to walk on the crunchy surface, because it was so uncharacteristic of the normal winter snow squeaks. She described it as walking on cardboard on top of marshmallow.
I hope my car tires are up to handling that on this morning’s drive.
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Horses Sense
The weather has been a little cantankerous lately, dishing out some horizontal precipitation in strong winds, with temperatures hovering uncomfortable close to the cold freeze-point. The kind of weather that a horse might not particularly appreciate.
I drove home from work on Thursday at a time between showers. The pavement was dry and the overcast sky looked less glum than the rest of the week. When I came over the hill to the first view of our place, there was no one in sight. Over the first rise of our driveway I discovered a distinct absence of horses.
Hmm. I whimsically asked myself if maybe Cyndie had sold them.
Why would they be inside the barn at this hour?
Sometimes the weather at home and the weather at work can be dramatically different, but all indications showed it to be equally dry. It occurred to me that the horses might be making up for the fact we had left them out the night before, when enough windy precipitation showed up that it exceeded their level of tolerance.
We had put them in the barn two nights ago, due to a cold rain, but Wednesday evening they were dry and seemed content with things, so I left them out. My sleep was disturbed later that night by the sound of blustery precipitation —I couldn’t tell if it was rain, sleet, or ice balls— hitting the bedroom window. My first thought was of the poor horses out there with their heads down, enduring the insult.
I asked Cyndie how they were in the morning and she reported a fairly normal routine and appearance. She said they weren’t necessarily dry, but they weren’t chilled-to-the-bone dripping wet, either.
At the same time, Cyndie did have a fascinating report to offer from that afternoon. She had left Delilah in the house and wandered down to be with the horses for the specific intent of listening to what they might have to offer. With a lot of concerns on her mind lately, she wanted to stand among the herd with no other cleaning or feeding agenda as distraction.
It was early in the afternoon, and like I described, not a bad day outside compared to the rest of the week. The message she got from the horses was insistent and unmistakable. They wanted to go inside their stalls. Now.
By the time I arrived home, it looked like nobody lived there. Cyndie was surprised they would ask to be inside so early, but gave them what they wanted.
A short time after I got home, the snow started flying. Sloppy, wet flakes that painted the deck with moisture. The kind of precipitation that a horse would probably be tired of enduring this week.
The kind of weather a horse would have enough sense to get out of if it had a barn for shelter.
All ours had to do was ask.
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Weathering Out
Does it seem like I am always writing about the weather? It just keeps weathering outside. What can I say?
I should have had an inkling, after the spectacular red sky the morning offered.
Last night when Delilah and I stepped out for her last walk of the day, we were met by this:
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Earlier, I had checked the radar and felt like we had a chance of the mixed precipitation missing us. Shortly before our walk, I flipped on the outside light and found the deck bone-dry. I’d forgotten my concern by the time I opened the door with Delilah, so then it came as a surprise. Silly, how quickly I moved from anticipating it, to being taken by surprise.
It felt and looked like rain, but a large percentage of it was the little ice balls. The ground was becoming a frozen glaze. I knew the horses deserved to come inside before they got soaked and chilled by it, so Delilah’s walk was delayed a bit, while I tended to horse chores.
Not only was her walk delayed, it was abbreviated, poor girl. I didn’t want to be out in freezing rain and sleet for any longer than absolute necessity.
I heard from another poor girl last night that the weather in Florida has continued wet and cold, with flooding rains. Cyndie’s “vacation” sounds like anything but. I warned her that she will be returning on a day when we might be getting bombarded by a significant winter snowfall on Tuesday.
I don’t know if it has anything to do with her, but it could give a person a complex.
Regardless, it just keeps weathering out there, …and I find myself writing about it.
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Relative Something 