Nostalgia, DVDs, old movies, television, OTR, fandom, good news and bad, picks, pans,
cute budgie stories, cute terrier stories, and anything else I can think of.
Contact me at yetanotherjournal (at) mindspring (dot) com
. . . . .
. . . . .
» Tuesday, March 01, 2011Night and Day
Those who say "what a difference a day makes" ain't kidding. Yesterday a perpetual grey gloom hung overhead, occasionally interrupted by a peep of sun suddenly swallowed by cloud again. The air started out warm, in the low 60s, and was eventually into the sultry mid-70s, with a not just warm, but heavy feel, relieved only by a breeze. By suppertime it was spattering, then pouring, the sky booming for a few minutes, but nothing close and no power loss. (Other folks weren't so lucky; one tree missed a woman sitting in her living room by 10 inches—she still got a huge bruise on her left arm—and lightning set another house afire; mother, daughter, and the family dog emerged unscathed, but the cat hasn't been seen since.) Immediately there came the relief of cool air; windows were opened and fans set to pull it inside.
(Thankfully, I had long enough this afternoon to pull the winter decorations off the porch. Some of them are stuffed snowmen and they would have been sopped clear through. I left up just the silver wreath and the snow flag, and put all the little ceramic and resin sheep and cows back.)
This morning the air was bright and chilly. Absolutely spectacular view in the southeastern sky as it turned from black to a lush, purply midnight blue: the bright crescent moon with its "cup" facing the bright dot that is Venus, as if someone tossed the planet in an arc that would land it in the moon's mouth. The big snowy puffs of newly-blossomed Bradford pear trees glowed white under streetlights and headlamps. A row of around thirty of them line the access road between Shallowford Road and the office park, a wall of sheer white shutting out, momentarily only, the rush of the freeway on the opposite side.