The week gone by — Aug. 22*

Yes, I am aware that I posted it Aug. 21. I kept the Sunday date in the interest of consistency, but keep reading to see why I decided to release it into the world a day early.

I don’t remember the context, but I was listening to a story one morning on the local public radio station and heard someone referred to as a theoretical physicist and a menswear expert.

All I could think of was Sheldon Cooper guaranteeing that I would like the way I look.

Advertisement

False spring … and hope for better days

I decided I was going to risk it.

I was going to wear a T-shirt on our walk … and shorts.

I even made sure it’s a Syracuse shirt for their big game against Virginia.

Memories of snowstorms past

I had about six inches of snow to clean up this morning, practically a light workout after last week’s 18 inches or so and giant plow-induced drifts at the top of my driveway.

For some reason, however, I felt like someone had run over me with a truck when I was all done. Fortunately, it appeared to have just been early morning exertion combined with not eating much for breakfast — I did last week’s work after lunch — so a little bit of rest and a small plate of pasta had me feeling like new again.

Freaked out by the forecast

We’re supposed to get a snowstorm later in the week.

It’ll be a pain, especially after the plow dumps snow at the end of the driveway, but neither of us has to be anywhere that day, and the snowblower ran fine when I used it a couple weeks ago.

But then I saw a forecast of 14 to 20 on the local news, and 24 to 36 down toward Cape Cod, where we used to live.

Winter is one of them

Now that we’ve had our first snowstorm of the season, I figured it would be a good time to tee up this one from Oct. 1, 2016, even though I know winter doesn’t officially start for another couple weeks.

There is a — I don’t want to call it a “lie” or a “fraud,” because that implies intent, so I’ll call it a “myth” — being spread. Perhaps you’ve done it yourself.

What is this myth?

It’s that living in a place with “four seasons” is in some way superior to having weather that’s pretty much good year-round, such as Southern California.

Soggy Sunday

It’s cold.

It’s rainy.

The wind has blown more of the leaves off the trees.

It’s the kind of gloom outside that makes everything feel gloomy inside.

Oh well. Write it off. Maybe tomorrow will be better.

Dodging raindrops at the beach

Everyone at Popham Beach State Park knew it was coming, probably even the seagulls.

The dark clouds were off to the right, and at times it was hard to tell whether the crashing sound was thunder or waves crashing along the beach.

What is that strange color above?

My wife texted me about it.

One of my coworkers took a selfie to send to her husband.

Forget the nothingburger eclipse of a couple years ago; this should have been the lead story on all the local newscasts, for it was a meteorological miracle.

The sun actually came out.

Miracle on a winter’s morning

Because to a certain groundhog in Pennsylvania named Phil, “early spring” is apparently defined as “nearly a foot of snow on March 4,” I had the snowblower out this morning.

Everything was going fairly smoothly, and I was just about wrapping up when everything stopped with a “thunk.”

There’s cold … and then there’s cold

It only snowed for about 20 minutes this morning, and didn’t amount to anything, except it came as my wife and I were each driving to work, and the winds whipped it across the street enough so it was hard to see in spots.

Today’s wind was the type that knocks twigs and branches off trees if you’re lucky, and knocks down trees and wires if you’re not.