Here it is, January 7th, the middle of winter, and it is 60 degrees out there. That is both a delight and a concern. Sixty degrees in the middle of winter is always a phenomenon to be celebrated, bringing as it does a respite from the shoveling and the icy winds and the constant whitish gray of the world. But at the same time, when it gets that warm at this time of year, we should be concerned that the earth may have veered slightly off its axis and we are on a collision course with the sun.
The rain, yes rain, today has all but obliterated what remains of the huge mounds of snow that accumulated over the last month. In this part of the world, Wisconsin, December was the second snowiest on record, a dubious cause for celebration. Now all that is left of that largess bestowed on us by Mother Nature are some pathetic, gritty, grayish tendrils of snow lining the driveway. You can almost hear the whimpering as those leftover mounds melt into the ground. On the one hand, I say good riddance. On the other hand, I somehow find myself wishing for real winter to assert itself so that I don’t lose any more sleep over such aberrant weather leading to the end of the world. I know, ridiculous worry, but it’s all I got.