Growing up in south Texas, it always seemed to be a tossup whether we'd be able to wear sweaters on Christmas Day. We're known for our temperate winters, and true to form, more years than not, Christmas Day is a good day for a hike or a birdwatching expedition. I've spent, to the best of my memory, every Christmas of my life in Corpus Christi
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I am amused at your enthusiasm for snow. In your enthusiasm, my usually withered, jaded bitterness about the winter recedes a little, perhaps segueing as far upwards as "somewhat dour". I feel like an adult, watching baby take her first few steps.
I may also be a little over dramatic here. Hopefully, you'll find it within yourself to forgive me.
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Did you see my snow pictures? They start here, I think.
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This picture was sort of striking for me, however. It reminded me of the Great Ice Storm of Ninetyseven. (We've already taken to calling it that, yes.)
In that Great Ice Storm, it was winter, a very deep-rooted, well-seated winter. The ground had been long frozen, the snow was staying. Then, thanks to Ottawa's manic-depressive weather, it started to rain. Oh, did it rain! It rained long and hard, a real torrential downpour, and it didn't stop for hours.
Under normal circumstances, it wouldn't rain at all. It's not supposed to rain during the winter, let alone early February. (There's a reason for that. There's also a reason I don't own a car.) It's just that with the ground so frozen, the area so cold, the rain instantly froze as soon as it touched a solid surface. I must stress it again: instantlyThere were centimeters of ice on the roads--which was not so bad, since cars produce a lot of waste heat, and ( ... )
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