A Weather Story

Today I met some friends for coffee around 3:30.  

(And yes, shockingly, I actually did drink coffee.)

It was a nice enough day - overcast, it had rained, but warm enough so one of my friends wore Capri type pants and the coffee shop propped its door open.  (Probably in the 50's, maybe low 60's, but no wind) 

I left there and went to Walmart.   When I entered Walmart around 5pm, it was still a pleasant day, though some of the clouds looked rather ominous.  I exited Walmart at 6pm, accompanied by driving sleet/hail and a cacophony of rolling thunder and flashing lightening.  (Pretty sure that's the first thunder of the year.)   

This picture doesn't do justice to the sheets of sleet you could see coming down.

At that point there was already an inch or two of white stuff covering everything and the roads were a bit treacherous.  

I thought to my self, "This can't last!  It will blow itself out soon."    

Clearly, I am not a prophet.  

The sleet didn't last, it's true, but it turned to snow.  I was running errands, so I would make a mad dash into the stores, slush soaking my pants up to my knees, white snow flakes obscuring the green of my coat.  After completing whatever purchases I had to make (rarely more than a few minutes at each stop) I would dash back out to my car where I would have to start the defroster and sweep snow off my car so I could attempt to see out the windows.  


Once I finally made it home, my car looked like this: 

 And outside the garage you could see where the wind had piled snow against the garage door.

 It even tried to block up my door.

It's now nearly 11pm and the snow storm is still going strong with several inches of snow accrued already.  

It's the traditional Easter Blizzard, just a few days early. 

This was the snow storm on Easter when I was probably about one and a half...just as evidence of how common this sort of occurrence is.  

 Bonus Picture (just because it was on the same page in the scrapbook):  I apparently really loved to sing with my dad. :)

Spring

There is something decidedly bipolar about Montana's weather, especially in the spring.  Her mood swings follow no discernible pattern. One moment the weather will be fine, smelling of spring (which is delightful when the smells of thawing manure and deer carcasses don't dominate), and the next moment the only thing visible outside my window will be swirling snowflakes.

She is like a woman, awakening after a long sleep.  She slips from between her white sheets and goes to her closet, only to find that the frothy green garb of spring has not yet been readied for her. Unwilling to wear autumn's gown, she slips back under her white covers to doze a little longer.

In Montana, the sleep of winter is indeed long, with many tantalizing false stirrings, before spring finally arrives.  Still, signs of the approaching spring continue to appear.  

One day there will be a hint of green in the fields or lawns...

Calves and lambs begin to be seen in increasing regularity.  

And the time between sun,

storm (like this one rolling in),

sun,

and being able to see the ground again (in the valley, if not quite in the mountains) 

Gets shorter with each repeated cycle.  

Yes, someday spring will arrive...though by that time, it may be autumn again.  

First Snow

It came, following hard on the heels of days of 60 degree weather.  When I went to bed the temperature was still well above freezing; when I got up, the landscape had changed.  It snowed all day and into the night, blanketing the ground with the purity of its whiteness, clothing newly nude branches in bridal splendor.  When the sun showed its face again, the brilliance was something to behold.  

Having cleverly avoided winter for the better part of two years, it was a sight I had missed.

I took the opportunity to make my first snow-angel in years.  I think I need to work on my technique a little. :)

Hail

It came, swift and sudden.  One minute we were steadily climbing, keeping a watchful eye on the nearby storm clouds, flashing with lightening.  The next, the storm had broken, fiercely pelting us with pea-sized hail.  Caught on an open hill with no trees nearby, we were uncertain what to do.  Eventually we ran, ducking, trying to avoid the stinging pellets, to the nearest scruffy trees and bushes, about 100 yards away.  Making use of the slightly improved shelter they offered, we waited for the storm to pass.  

Cold and wet, with red welts on arms and necks we contemplated turning back, but not for long.  The spirit of adventure was too strong, at least in the youth with us, and the parents were willing to carry on for their sakes.  

(only picture I got of the actual hail...)

 It was worth it. 

The cave...

The view from the cave...

The American Indian paintings in the cave...

(What do they look like to you?)

 I love hiking.  And this time, the hail just made it that much more enjoyable.