Two to five inches of the white stuff, they say. Not that much, really. Not by any rational standards. I was talking to Tracy O’Grady at the apex of the Amen Corner at her Willow restaurant about how we people of the Great Lakes deal with the eternal nature of the snow. She is from Buffalo, and I spent my time in the Little Village by the Bay. Old Jim snorted about real winter weather up in his hometown of Northampton, Mass, and waved at Jasper to get a reinforcement Bud.

I was taking it slow, and just grateful the drive up from the Farm had been uneventful between the storms. I waited until the temperature hit 40 degrees to ensure that the ice would be off the road and mischance could be minimized.

I tried to get a picture- Jim was particularly energized about the matter and thrust his left arm up in the air to hold the empty bottle aloft- but it was no soap. By the time I got the camera-phone’s icon pressed, Jasper had made the brown long-neck appear in front of him, and the moment was past.

Tracey and I are Lake’s Effect people, and we deal with the snow as it comes, the moisture sucked up off the gun-metal gray of the big inland bodies of fresh water. We got clobbered all the time, even if there was no larger storm front coming through. Cold air was enough all by itself to do the job and pile the stuff up on our streets and highways.

It is different here at the edge of the Piedmont, perched atop the big bluff above the sluggish Potomac. I have been looking out the dining room window since before six this morning, pecking at one thing or another, watching the blacktop turn gray with the coming of dawn, then the asphalt turning to gray slush, and now transforming to white as the snow continues to come down.

The Federal Government is closed, as are most of the schools in the region. Sounds like an exceptional day to stay in and ignore things.

I started with the Mandela eulogies in the driving rain in South Africa, intrigued that my favorite radio personality Vickie Barker was doing the commentary from Jo-berg. Then the usual litany of partisan bickering here in Washington started off and I tuned out.

Funny, I can’t dredge up any passions this morning beyond a vague desire to stay warm and dry. I believe I have a plan to do exactly that.

Copyright 2013 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com
Twitter: @jayare303