Merrimac Meltdown, Part 2

Listen to the news today, and you probably heard something about spring arriving at 12-something a.m. The TV newspeople I watched and heard seemed to delight in mentioning not only that spring had arrived, but that it had done so during the first hour of the day. Hark! The sun has finally crossed the equator and is headed back to our hemisphere...which, if you think about it, would be a whole lot more meaningful if the sun was actually in the sky when it happened. Then we could have stepped outside and said, "Wait for it, wait for it, wait...there! It's crossed the equator! Spring, here we come!" On cue, birds would sing and flowers would burst forth from the ground.

Right: Instead, we are under a winter storm watch.

Let's look back a few days. Here's how our crusty, unsightly, unwelcome snow pile was faring last Tuesday, after a day of burning sun and temperatures in the high 40s:

Here's a view of the ugly glacier along the street. Still significant snow, but the banks are waning:

By now, the poor damaged shrub - the calling card of the Plow Man - had emerged. You can see various shurb-parts scattered across the snow.

Alas, poor wounded shurb...will he survive the landscaper's scrutiny?

I felt lousy on Tuesday, and spent the following day in bed. Since then, practically everyone I've called throughout the last few work days is either sick, getting sick, or getting over being sick. Stuffy nose, sore throat, cough, flu, you name it. A week later, I'm still working on blowing my sinuses clear.

Thursday was even warmer than Tuesday. It was 50 degrees out when I snapped this:

Look - grass! And our first artifact of emergent trash, on the boulevard along the sidewalk:

Then our melting documentation experiment goes awry. My wife decided my dad's suggestion of using snow to clean the garage floor was a brilliant idea. On Saturday, she scooped a bunch out of the pile, dumped it on the concrete, and used it to drag the accumulated road filth from the garage floor. Now, it's all over the driveway, where we'll undoubtedly track it back in. I will concede the floor is clean.

At any rate, because of this disturbation, we'll never now just how fast the Merrimac Range would have melted. Then on Monday, as one person remarked, winter called in reinforcements:

The snow was the kind that's almost more water than white, the kind that does goes splish, splosh, slip, slop when you walk through and makes a mess of your pants. By the next day, it had melted, and the sunny weather returned.

Tonight, we're under a winter storm watch again, with a couple more inches of white slush expected by morning. And the forecast for Easter is a pathetic high of 37 degrees with flurries. Fortunately for those of us who live in these uncooperative northern climes, Easter won't come this early again for some 200-plus years.

The sound of melting

Enter daylight savings time; the sun is still high in the sky now that I'm home from work. That's welcome...another sign that spring is on its way. The sunlight is a hot white hue these days, not the warm yellow of mid-winter.

Today was momentous because the temperature finally climbed above freezing - the first time since, what, six months ago? It's 35 outside as I write! Strangely, it doesn't feel as warm as it ought to. There's a brisk west wind, so the air still has a bite. Supposedly, it's blowing in warmer air for midweek, but I'm skeptical.

There's been a bit of melting of our front yard range of snow. Not enough to document, but the damaged shrubbery - what's left of it - is starting to poke through the softening drifts. When I went out to get the mail, I heard the faint-yet-distinct sound of melting. Bend down to the snowbanks, and you hear what sounds like a rag being rung out. Squelch, squelch.

Merrimac Range Meltdown

Here at the homestead, I have decided to keep tabs on the arrival of spring, or lack thereof, by monitoring the melting of the Merrimac Range. Today, the TV news reported that we have had at least an inch of snow on the ground - a bit relative, since it's been blown around lately and there's almost none on the lawn but a 2-foot drift on the patio - for something like 90 days.

After it snows at least an inch, the Plow Man and his Crew show up early in the morning and dig the place out. The Plow Man knows how to clear our driveway and the neighbor's in five minutes flat. It's a few quick runs with the plow pickup, and he's on to the next driveway. Most of that snow ends up in my front yard, where it has been piling up for three months. The result is the Merrimac Range, a Teton-esque ridge of ice and snow. The range rises sharply from the edge of the driveway in a tumbled mass of icy crags and snow boulders that make up the south face, while the north slope falls away more gradually to the snowy plains of the front yard.

It was at its most spectacular Christmas Eve:

Weekly, the range is reshaped by the unforgiving, often violent forces of Mother Nature, neighborhood kids, and the Plow Man. In the last couple of weeks, the blazing sun has beaten it down a bit. Here is an aerial shot from late this afternoon:

As it is wont to do, March has arrived with a schizophrenic personality. First warm sun, blue skies, and soft snow under ski. A day later, freezing rain and flakes. Then cold. Then snow again (just in time to muck up this morning's commute). Now, frigid air from Canada has settled over Minnesota for the umpteenth time this winter.

Despite the discouraging weather, we at BlogOLink remain hopeful for the coming of a spring. For the benefit of our readers, and friends in California who don't have seasons other than "sunny and 70 degrees," we will monitor the demise of the Merrimac Range. How long will it take the sun to flatten these mountains? What treasures - or trash - will be revealed? And when will we get a clear picture of just how badly the Plow Man pulverized the shrubs? Stay tuned for regular updates.

Wednesday, March 5, 5:45 p.m. - 16 degrees at sunset. The Merrimac Range is as solid as a rock. At this rate, it's going to be around until July.

It's a beautiful day...don't let it get away

So here it is: Jenni has been gone for six days. It's chilly in the house, and it's freaking freezing outside. It's supposed to snow overnight. Below zero by Friday morning.

The house is dark. The silence is so heavy I've taken to talking to myself out loud to fend it off.

Work's been a pain in the ass...long, mentally grueling days for weeks on end.

Sometimes, when your wife is away on a dark winter night, you have snap yourself out of the mood. You sit down at the computer, you pull up You Tube. You find a couple of music videos and crank the volume until the floor vibrates. You close your eyes and let the music carry you to a brighter, warmer place, where the beat's in your brain and the melody is rushing through your veins like a river of bubbly.

When you open your eyes the house is still dark, it's still cold outside, and your wife's still away. But she's only away for a couple more days. The weather will improve. Your job will be easier. And you smile, because it's a Beautiful Day in the City of Blinding Lights.

Epilogue: Republicans are dumb

Before any of you label me a partisan hack, I'd like to offer this follow-up to last week's post about our tax-happy DFL friends at the Minnesota State Capitol.

As you'll recall, the transportation bill that legislators enacted - overriding Gov. Pawlenty's veto in the process - was mostly split along party lines, but not quite. In this instance, it was six House Republicans who broke ranks to go along with the DFL to override the veto. These representatives said they refused to go along with the party line because they felt that passing the bill was the right thing to do.

As I made pretty clear last week, I disagree with them. Vehemently. The transportation bill's tax increases are too many to dump on Minnesotans all at once. But I respect these men and women who made a personal stand and said, "I believe the right thing to do is pass this bill and I am going to vote with my conscience." Assuming we have elected honorable and decent folks to represent us and act in the best interest of our state and its people, we can only hope that all legislators would do the same on this and every vote. (For the record: I'm sure the vast majority of them do.)

The Minnesota Republican Party, however, has made it clear what it thinks about legislators who vote with an independent conscience: They ought to be scolded and embarrassed with a public demotion. This was the response last week. Days later, it's still making headlines.

Clearly, we have state politicians - or political leaders, in any case - who have willingly fallen into two divided, utterly partisan categories. We already know that politics in our country is headed down this road. To see it with increasing boldness in our state government - once known for its civil discourse and progressive approach to civic matters - makes me sick. In terms of the legislature, it seems there's not much to look forward to between now and the end of the session in May.

Then again, who needs the legislature? There are much more exciting things happening in May. In fact, in 79 days, we're going to be in for the treat of the decade: A familiar face is making a return...fedora, whip, and all. Fasten your seat belts, because on May 22 Indiana Jones returns! (Turn up your speakers and watch the trailer here. Nifty countdown clock also.)

Let's hope all of our legislators hit the theaters after the session to take in Indy's latest adventure. Maybe they'll learn a thing or two: Dr. Jones is a role model we can all look up to.