Let me say right here at the top that compared to weather in a whole lot of the rest of United States recently and ongoing, what happened here in northwest Oregon over the weekend is hardly worth mentioning.
Except, if you live in this part of Oregon it is a once-in-a-decade, or thereabouts, occurrence and therefore remarkable. Three mornings in a row I was shoveling the walkways as the snow just kept coming down.
Although many of you are undoubtedly sick to death of snow, it's a unique event here so I took a couple of photos.
This is my favorite, shot at dawn on Saturday:
Maybe I wasn't paying close enough attention to what the weather people were saying but I was surprised when the accumulation got this heavy out my window.
The reason this next photo seems a bit washed out is that although you can't see the tiny, individual snowflakes, they are coming down heavily creating a kind of white screen in front of my camera lens.
Mostly, streets don't get plowed here. Even moderate snow storms are so infrequent that cities and towns have little if any removal equipment. So you drive carefully and hope everyone else does too.
On Friday, it was snowing heavily as I made my slow way home from an appointment when a behemoth of a pickup truck appeared in my rear-view mirror riding my bumper. It was so close I didn't dare tap the brakes to warn off the driver.
Hate that. It scares the crap out of me and I was deeply grateful to four winters of experience driving in Maine.
By Sunday afternoon, the temperature warmed up to more than 35 or 40 Farenheit so, as I said above, this was hardly anything to compare to what the midwest and east have been enduring.
It's been a long time since I've mentioned Ollie the cat. In August, he will be 10 years old and he's slowed down a lot, gotten fat too.
We're like an old married couple nowadays, comfortable with one another's quirks.
Generally, that means Ollie lets me know what he wants – usually food, but occasionally it's playtime together or, now and then, a request I can't readily translate from the feline.
When that happens or if I don't respond quickly enough to other demands, he bites my ankle. It's an effective tool and I think the noise I make pleases his sense of superiority.
Ollie was unimpressed with the snow. He peeked out the open front door for about two seconds, looked up at me like I'm nuts and retreated to his favorite chair expressing his additional and lifelong disdain for cameras.
At The Elder Storytelling Place today, Editor's Message to ESP Contributors