Rain, Or Snow, Or Ice, Or Wind, Or Nothing At All

Our Amish neighbors are riding by in their buggies with big black umbrellas like an opaque windshield, open in front of them.  They don’t need to see, the horses know the way.   I’m messaging with my Bellydancing sisters to see who will show up for class and who won’t. Kathleen will be there, she lives minutes away.  But some of us drive over mountains and on dark winding back roads.   The hens are staying dry under the table on the back porch.  I’ve filled up the bird feeders and Jon and I are wondering if we need to pull the generator out from the barn.

The rain is  here already, a light patter on the windows.  But sometime this afternoon, evening or night it may turn to ice or snow or both.  There might be lots of snow, the winds may pick up, there might be flooding.

Or it might just rain a little.

I won’t know if I’m going to Bellydancing Class tonight till just before I leave.  I’ll see what it’s doing outside my own window and wait to hear from Emily about the weather in Vermont.  Snow there might be rain here or vice versa.

Even five minutes north or south of the farm weather is often not the same.  But that part isn’t new.

It’s the warnings, the unusual and extreme weather that I’m only lately getting used to.  Soon I’ll forget there was a time when it was different. The weather was never really predictable, but the patterns have changed.  And it hasn’t been long enough for me to be able to figure out the new pattern.

If there is one.

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