On September 30th when old man winter arrived without invitation I was shocked. I had expected fall; a gentle transition; trees turning brillant red, orange, and yellow. I looked forward to an increasing crispiness in the air, the smell of wood smoked drifting across the land, the first frost on the grass; all followed by a light dusting of snow. The New England fall I had read about is not the fall of the Big Sky state. We plunge into winter with a fury. The temperatures dropped into single digits and snow piled up on leaves that were just beginning to turn colors.
I was not prepared. My coat was a jeans jacket. My shoes loafers with no socks. The Fairy Princess had warned me but I didn't listen.
Old man winter didn't care he was here and he did his best work. The heavy wet snow covered everything, tree branches broke and bushes bent low to the ground as winters blanket coated the still green leaves. That snow melted and the leave turned not the fall colors I was expecting but instead a dirty grey brown. Snow fell again and this snow was light and airy. What I believe skiers call powder. It disappeared, bare ground surfaced.
That was all over two months ago. Now I am an old hand at snow. I have three coats, several scarfs, hats, and two pair of boots. Light snow, heavy snow, 32 degrees to 4 below I'm ready. I don't know about the twenty below, I may become a human icicle.
13 hours ago