It was a
cold night (7oF at 6am) followed by a high of a comfortable 18oF. Amazing how
temperature is so relative. Thoreau would write about days in the single digits
(which I don't recollect occurring here in years), or even below zero--with the
pitcher of water in by his washstand frozen all the way to the bottom by
morning--and I would think, "that's cold, alright!" But now I have
more of a point of reference! It is due to be even colder tonight.
We got an honest foot, or maybe
16 inches. Measuring snow is an inexact
business, not only because it drifts, but also varies in density, and packs
down as it accumulates. (At Logan
Airport there is an official stone bench for snow measurement: a meteorologist
goes out periodically and sticks a ruler down to the stone for the official
measure.) I shoveled for the 15 or 20
minutes it would take to my fingers to numb, then come in to read the paper,
eat, listen to the radio, then go back out.
By mid-afternoon it was time to go out back with the camera.
The backyard, a couple of my boats in the foreground.
Our neighborhood coyote has been by--probably this morning. (No proof that
these aren't dog tracks, but I've seen coyotes around here more often than loose dogs.)
My Wild Place in daylight.
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