I'm sitting here watching the snow melt as well, and trying to appreciate your different point of view.

Here in the midwest we do get snow often, and as of this morning we had a good nine inches or more of accumulated snow on the ground. Since it's above freezing now, we have been socked in with dense fog for most of the day. Snow + fog = a continuum of white that gets to be rather oppressive after several hours.

The melting snow has left lots of water over the snow-packed parking lot, so the number of steps in the short trip to my car has tripled. Striding is too dangerous in this weather; only little bitty baby steps are allowed.

Yes, and that warm rain is due here tonight. Possibly a couple of inches which will lead to a lot of flooding and standing water. But that won't last long, since the temperatures will drop to zero by Thursday night. So all that water will be ice.

John, don't misinterpret this post. I'm not "raining on your parade," I'm just contrasting your sense of wonder with my sense of drudgery in enduring yet another wallop of winter weather.

I've always said I love the four seasons and wouldn't leave the midwest, but about this time every year I could be easily tempted.

V.

V:
It's nice to get a different viewpoint. Around here, the city rarely plows streets, so whatever snow falls stays until car tires grind it up or until it melts. Right now our roads are going through the stage your parking lot is in: lots of standing water in slippery, frozen tire ruts. I walked to the store and back this morning -- actually, more of a slip-sliding than a walk in places -- and I had to watch out or I would have gone tobogganing down the hill on my butt (and the bottle wine I was carrying might have dyed the snow red). Fortunately, all that should be gone by tonight. (The snow water must not have been too cold because birds were bathing in the puddles.)

But I did like the crunch of my boots in the rotten snow.

Another perspective John: if you lived around here and were "Sitting on the front porch, watching the snow melt," you would have a long wait but not so long before someone hauled you off to the cabin fever ward.

Here's my weather observation for the day: When lightening flashes over an area with total snow cover, the flash of the lightening is greatly intensified.

Animal behavior observation: The above phenomena does nothing good for an eight-year-old labrador retriever who lives in a house full of uncovered windows who has developed a fear of lightening.

We got a good deal of rain but not enough to totally melt the snowpack. Fields that normally flood in the spring have standing water this morning. The end of my driveway is all ice; picking up the newspaper was a five-minute ballet excercise.

At the moment it is nsowing again, with the deep freeze still forecast for tonight.

V.

ps - careful with that wine, John!

When INK sits on the porch, watching the snow melt... you know it's June! ;)

I can't even imagine a place where the snow stays for months -- except in the high mountains, of course (some of which are snow-capped all year).

The worst winter that I experienced was 1978-79. It snowed heavily the night before Thanksgiving and the ground was not clear until sometime in late March. We had several major storms that dumped heavy accumulations of snow and dealing with the snow became the major issue of the winter.

I was a brand-new homeowner that year; the proud owner of a three story townhome in a development named "Bright Oaks". We bought an existing unit that had been built when the developer still had a conscience, so the buildings had been carefully positioned to preserve many of the large old oaks. As a result, our building had been slanted in relation to the street. Our neighbor in the far north end of the building could barely fit his enormous Cadillac in his driveway, but at the other end of the building we could park three full size cars end to end in our driveway. The south side of our driveway was a small hill with a lovely ancient oak atop it. The other side of the driveway was a narrow strip of lawn that we shared with our immediate neighbor.

By the end of January, shoveling the driveway meant scooping up a shovel full of snow, walking the length of the driveway and then going down the street about 30 feet to a clear spot on the hillside, clear meaning that the snow wasn't already piled higher than your head. Then walk back to get the next scoop of snow. It was just a bit time-consuming!

In mid-January I had to take the train to downtown Chicago on a Saturday morning for work. When I left home it had started snowing again, and the train station lot had not been plowed. I park legally on the street and headed downtown. By shortly after noon, it became obvious that the storm was so bad I should head home, so I left for the train station. A combination of heavy snow and bitter cold had disrupted even the commuter trains. The schedule was out the window and they were running on a "load and go" basis. Maybe that should read "load and stall"?

What should have been a 90 minute trip took about four hours. Switches were freezing, the diesel engine would not run at full speed, and crossing gates acted up everywhere. As the trip took longer and longer and the snow got deeper and deeper, I began to wonder how I would ever get my car off the street, or more simply how I would get home at all.

When the train finally pulled into my station, I was surprised to see my husband and our neighbor, the owner of the enormous Cadillac, come walking out of the trackside tavern. My husband had decided to come help me get the car out, but the neighbor saw him leaving and offered to drive instead, since the big old boat handled better in the heavy snow. (Note to younger readers: this occurred in a time before the existence of cell phones and SUV's. We did have electricity, though.) The two waited out the storm in the tavern until they heard the train come in. They had heard enough about the travel problems that day to know that I would be on THE train.

I don't think I was ever so happy to see two people in my life! It took several hours the next day to excavate the car from its white tomb on Main Street, but we got the job done.

Finally we came to the long-awaited day in early March when it was warm enough to melt a significant amount of snow. I came home to find the ceiling of my first floor entryway on the floor. An awful lot of homeowners learned all about ice dams that spring, as the damage became all too apparent in the thaw. We ended up with a new ceiling and a full paint job on two floors to repair the damage. Fortunately, our homeowners' insurance covered the damage.

We've had colder weather, strong winds, heavy rains, you name it, but I still rate that winter as my worst weather experience ever.

V.

Perhaps I should take that back. I have just been on the porch watching the snow melt. The temperature has been plus 13 today, PLUS 13 and for those who have no idea what this means, that is 25 - 30 degrees above normal for this time of year. I can actually see the grass, and the cabbages I left in the ground although they are totally unrecognizable, they look like dish rags but dish rags is better than barren wouldn't you say. The river is molten and flowing and rising by the minute, which reminds me: I better check the basement

Wow. 13C in Montreal is news in January. Indicative of global climate change? I've read that the permafrost is thawing farther north, and that robins were found around the Arctic Circle last summer.