Notice in the photograph, there are big, knarly campons on my snowshoes. The one on the right is turned to the underside, so you can see them. I would like to put these aggressive crampons to use on a tilted mountainside filled with snow.
Note, also, that there are weeds growing in my flower beds to the right. I'm so not going to pick weeds three weeks before Christmas. This is not weed-picking time, people. I'm tired of warm-weather activities. Do you hear me?
But we're caught in this late fall purgatory. No storms. Just gray days. I'm sitting here drinking espresso at my kitchen table and fuming.
We haven't seen the sun in the San Joaquin Valley for a week now. The high temperature yesterday was 49. The low was 43. This is boring and drippy cold.
This blog, at the moment, is no longer about finding mummified remains in a glacier. That came and went in September.
This is about waiting for a storm in December.
I want to see the Sierra pasted with about three feet of snow. Oh, we have snow already at 9,000 or 10,000 feet. But it's not that much, and I'm really tired of waiting for my snow season. I ordered it in July. Where is it?
More later.
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