Technically, Southeast Michigan received a visible snowfall back in late November, but we’ll disregard that because that came before the challenge. Today, on the Winter Solstice, we had another snowfall, about the same as last time, inaugurating winter. For a short time, the snowflakes looked like goose feathers freed from a pillow. There is no more snow predicted in the short term, but this is a better start than last year’s non-winter. So, were you in the path of the Midwest blizzard? Post about it. Hurry up, Advent is coming to a close.
Update: We’ve had snow on the ground since this posting. That means we had a white Christmas, the first in a few years. As of now, there is about 3.5 inches or so on the ground. More to come, I’m told. What about you?
This challenge should be the easiest to date: post a note when you have your first significant snowfall. There should be accumulation; falling flakes that melt on contact with the ground don’t count. On a side note: I’ve seen two great blue herons in my neighborhood this past week. I don’t know if that can be chalked up to climate change (though the temperatures have been mostly below or at normal (mid-40s)) or just stupid birds.
Here’s hoping for a white Christmas–and a snow day before the 21st.
It ain’t snow, but that’s the closest I have for what’s on my computer’s hard drive.
The grey days of November are here in Michigan. It’s been dry and cold for the most part, but we’re going way above average for a couple of days starting in December. I was walking home from work about two weeks ago and smelled smoke, the sunlight was pale and cold, and that’s when I realized that that is the essence of November: cold, but with the promise of comfort and warmth from a fire somewhere. Most of the birds around here now are the hardy year-round residents. Insects can still be found, but only in ones and twos, and then only on days when the temperature rises above 50 degrees. Squirrels are still active and deer can occasionally be spotted wandering the mean suburban streets, but late fall means a general slowdown of biodiversity. Most of the trees are naked now, and most plants that are still green are invasive.
So aside from my own thoughts of quaint New England villages framed by flaming colors of hardwoods, November is quiet, introspective, and waiting patiently for the cleansing blanket of snow that might come during Advent or Christmas time. November is seeing the last flocks of mallards and Canada geese flutter away. November is crisp silence.