Diary #553

We get a great deal of rain at Sunset, but not much snow.   But about 3 PM last Tuesday, shortly after Chekhov returned from visiting his lady friend, it started coming down in big, fat flakes.  The air had been very cold all day, and I hadn’t even bothered to change out of my warm, fuzzy robe; I made us a pot of turkey noodle soup for dinner, and then cocoa for our movie later.  It kept up pretty constantly until about 9 PM, but Wednesday was much warmer so it was all gone by nightfall, and thus did not impede my drive back to Seattle on Thursday.  That’s the way I like my snow:  on a day when I don’t have to go anywhere, and conveniently gone before I do have to go anywhere.  Too bad most weather  –  and most other natural or man-made conditions, for that matter  –  are not so cooperative with my needs and wishes.