Six Damn Degrees

I understand this is probably not the best way to launch this blog, but really! Six degrees on March 6?

I will be forever thankful I stopped in Pennsylvania and changed my sandals for closed-toed shoes.

That's because when I arrived in Ringwood it was six damn degrees Fahrenheit and the wind was howling. I nearly froze to death just unloading my car.

Hello, New Jersey style!

That was January 30th. It's now the end of the first week of March. It's eight in the morning and it's the same six degrees and it won't go above freezing today. In Atlanta, where I wore open-toed shoes and short-sleeved tops all year long, the high will be a sweltering fifty degrees.

I understand it's been the worst winter in living memory, but WTF, New Jersey? This is the welcome you have for me?

I did not know what an ice dam was before I got here. Now I know. There's a half-ton of ice frozen atop our gutters, threatening to come down on our heads and oh yes, flood the house when it finally starts to melt.

I had never had my hands on a snow shovel. When it snowed in Atlanta, which it does on occasion, I would just wait until noon and the roads and my driveway would be clear. In New Jersey I have become intimately acquainted with that implement of destruction, and with the ice scraper I carried in my cars for twenty-five years and never used. I have learned to wear gloves, and a hat that covers my ears, and even scarves, which I have never worn in my life.

It's not that I'm complaining. Really, I'm not... Oh, wait! Yes I am. I am complaining! Do people really endure this every winter? Must I go through this again next winter, and the winter after that?

Spring will be here in two short weeks. I know today will be the last day of really cold weather-- but damn you, jet stream!