Weather can be scary. The lexicon is filled with frightening terms: For instance, when a storm is supposedly on the way, forecasters issue a WARNING! And each hour in advance of a predicted precipitation binge is marked by ever-escalating admonitions from our TV-news friends to be prepared, get ready, avoid complacency...
The 24 hours prior to the snow event anticipated for today has run true to form. Yesterday morning, the guesses in regard to snowfall totals were in the three-to-six-inch range -- nothing special. Midday, in contrast, I caught a bite on the radio suggesting that the snow might actually miss the metro area entirely -- although, frankly, I might have misheard it, catching only the tail end of the item. By early evening, however, the seriousness of the jargon was ratcheting up -- and the late newscasts were dominated by stories about road preparations, preemptive school closures and hints of a snowy apocalypse. So I woke up early (4:45 a.m.) in order to begin my long, pitiless trek into the city, only to find that the roads were merely wet and the tumbling flakage was exceedingly light. Still, the assorted weather pros I saw and heard assured me that nature's fury was still on the way, and by the evening commute, the roads would look like the ice planet Hoth during the bad season.
Will it? At this writing, I've got no idea -- but I'm on edge just thinking about it. Still, there's a buzz about a day like this, an atmosphere of anticipation that's palpable and, in an odd way, pleasurable, too. If you like this feeling, you belong in Colorado. If you don't, well, there's always San Diego.