Today's forecast is...pretty

After watching snowstorm after snowstorm hammer Boston, Philadelphia finally got its biggest snowfall of the season.

And it's a beauty. Fluffy white stuff. Bright blue sky this morning. Deep shadows for contrast.

Mother Nature finally got it right. Enough of the two-inch tease of flakes, only to be washed by rain into a slushy, slippery mess.

The timing and forecasting for this one worked out well, with enough advance notice that event cancellations and work-at-home arrangements could be made. It was much better to watch the storm from a warm and toasty house than stranded somewhere on the road.

Still, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and I know plenty of people who are too tired of winter to care how pretty the landscape looks.

They probably would have preferred a view I had earlier this week. Something like this. It's tough to beat a sunny day in Southwest Florida.

But the trip wasn't all fun and games. There was a significant element of chore-cation involved, and I was anxious about a growing pile of projects back home on my desk.

Even so, it was a nice break from winter's chill and what had been a string of missed forecasts back home of snowstorms that always dumped the fun stuff somewhere else.

I was skeptical when Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow, signalling six more weeks of winter. But it looks like that little groundhog was right on the money.

Snow news is no news

I feel so silly sitting here waiting for Snowpocalypse or Snowmageddon or whatever portmanteau the weather wizards have dubbed the coming storm.

I’ve cancelled plans. My husband has set up a temporary office at the kitchen table. We have gas in the cars and food on the shelves. All we’re waiting for now are the flakes.

Last Saturday’s storm turned into a non-event, and we really didn’t need to cancel our plans to visit friends. At least we got to eat the chocolate cake I bought for dessert.

For tonight’s storm, which was supposed to be last night’s storm, there’s talk of feet of snow, or at least a foot or more. So far there’s been a dusting.

It was enough for me to do a quick pass over the driveway with the shovel. It was more of a warmup than a necessity. And, because I had shortened my gym workout, I wanted a little more exercise.

It’s not that I want snow to blanket the region, making travel difficult, causing cabin fever, and making commutes treacherous. Although it would be nice to have some “play inches” for some local snowshoeing or cross-country skiing.

What I really want is less nonstop coverage of snow that has yet to fall. Yes, forewarned is forearmed, but surely there must be some real news to cover in today’s world.

There may well be a major state-of-emergency, Nor’easter, blizzard, severe storm ahead. But for now, as I sit here waiting, snow news is no news.

Winter? My Bad

I’m headed toward the light.

With Daylight Saving Time this weekend and spring officially two weeks away, longer days are already evident and my spirits are on the rise.

This winter has been a record-breaker. For some, it was a back-breaker.

In Philadelphia and elsewhere, there has been more snow more often and with more variety than ever I can remember: snow storms, ice storms, even thundersnow.

For this I say, I’m sorry. It’s my fault.

Years ago, after a three-foot snowfall, I bought a snow rake for the roof. It was supposed to prevent structural and water damage from heavy snow and ice dams. Because I was so well prepared for the next big snow, it didn’t snow at all, or maybe just a dusting, for the next several years. I ended up refitting that snow rake as a long-handled window washer to reach the second floor.

My friends have stopped inviting me to cross-country ski weekends in the mountains because whenever I show up, the trails are bare and there’s no snow in the forecast.

Well, this year I took the hint. I refused to buy snow tires for my car. I didn’t even look at new winter coats. I gave away old thermal undershirts that had been clogging my drawers.

Then winter hit, with a vengeance.

I can only express my sincere apologies. And promise that next year, I’ll be better armed to deal with ice and snow and sleet and freezing temperatures. I'll get snow tires, replace old snow shovels, polish up my skis, and buy all-weather boots.

That should be just the trick for ensuring a mild and enjoyable winter for all next year.

You’re welcome.

Sunny, with chance of LOUD

It has been a hot, wet, humid summer in my corner of the world.

The hot and humid parts aren't too unusual for the Philadelphia area. But the mini-seasons of monsoon followed by baking heat followed by more monsoons added a few wrinkles to summer fun.

What I’ve been waiting for were the temperate days when I could work with windows open. That’s one of the joys of working from home.

It’s also one of the problems when your home is in a suburban neighborhood.

If it’s nice enough outside for open windows, it’s nice enough for neighbors (or their contractors) to do outside – and often quite noisy – work. Think lawn mowers, leaf blowers, power washers.

The day could start wonderfully peaceful. Birds singing. Crickets chirping. Quite the pastoral audio background for my conference calls and client interviews.

But the minute I pick up the headset and start dialing, one or another lawn service pulls up and starts revving its engines. Guaranteed.

I’m not complaining. Really. After 13 years of the freelance life, I’ve learned to shake my head – and close the windows.

I just bring this up as word of warning. I’m always eager to take calls from clients and colleagues. But if it’s a little noisy on my end, it’s probably a beautiful day in the neighborhood.

Feels like…it shouldn’t

For most of my summer vacation I wore a jacket and scarf. That was Paris in June.

When I returned home, I went into air-conditioned hibernation from the heat wave sweeping Philadelphia.

Every day I’d check the weather online. The big, bold numbers would indicate temperatures hot enough to fry my entire garden. Then I’d spy the fine print, which would start with “Feels like…” followed by a few more degrees.

‘Splain that one to me. If the thermometer reads 97, why make me even more miserable by adding two or three more degrees of discomfort? How much difference does it really make anyway? Never mind that people experience temperatures in different ways.

Last week, my father sat by the water in the blinding sun on a 95-degree day wearing a thick sweatshirt and long dungarees. There wasn’t even a breeze to be found.

On the  other hand, one of my running buddies can’t stand to wear sleeves past Memorial Day. Others continue to wear running shorts through winter snowstorms.

Yes, 84 degrees at 5 pm today will feel much, much better than 95 – especially with lower humidity – but is there any real value in AccuWeather’s “RealFeel®” indicator of 83? I don't think I'm going to notice the difference.

I remember when temperatures in the 80s felt tropical, but that was last winter, when I grudging bumped up the heat to 66. Now that I’ve lived through the recent heat wave, the 80s sound heavenly. I might even reach for my jacket if I’m out late tonight when it's supposed to dip into the 70s.

It’s no surprise people make so much small talk about the weather. Hot enough for you? Cold enough for you?

While the answer depends on the individual, at least one thing is true. If you don’t like the weather, just wait. But there’s no promise you’ll like what comes next. Mother Nature has been full of surprises these days.