Monday, October 19, 2009

First Frost Foretelling

First frost here this morning. As annoying as it is to have to scrape the stuff off of a windshield, there is something wondrously anticipatory about the first frost of the season. The sight of sunrise over ice crystals for the first time in six months triggers a hard-wired reaction in God's creation. The first frost changes things and changes our outlook. The first frost, and it's accompanying chill, serves to dispel any lingering denial regarding the demise of summer. The first frost tells us it is time to get our winter preparations in high gear.

Oh, I know, you folks up there in enemy territory and out west have been dealing with snow already so having to deal with a little frost is a yawner. But here at the northern end of southern nowhere snow is a very big deal and some winters a heavy frost is as close as we'll get to enjoying a true winter wonderland. From the way the temps have flirted with record lows this fall, however, the Colonel's sneaky suspicion is that Global Warming will take a vacation this year.

Not only has the temperature flamed out faster this fall, but we have been drenched by nearly incessant rains for the past two months. The Colonel is not the brightest bulb in the lamp, but it doesn't take an astrophysicist to realize that connecting the dots on the X axis = moisture, Y axis = temperature graph creates a line that plunges below the blue line labeled "Froz Precip" in the not too distant future.

Frankly, I get all of the cold and white stuff I want by reaching into the freezer for an ice cream sandwich. Several winters in Norway (and visits to Minnesota to train for those winters in Norway) broke me of all fascination with sub-zero temperatures and deep snow. But, while my wattage may be relatively low, the filament that is my cognitive reasoning center remains unbroken and marginally functional enough to illuminate the need to be prepared for the white stuff regardless my disdain for it.

Said preparations include bush-hogging the tall grass that has grown over the slope adjacent to the Big House that accomodated a redneck water slide this summer. Given a snowy covering, that slope should serve quite adequately to introduce the Colonel's grandsons to the joy of sledding.

Let it snow.
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