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.