Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Nearly Wordless Wednesday: From the Very Edge of the Storm



NEARLY WORDLESS WEDNESDAY REVIVED!


It has been so long since I posted a "Nearly Wordless Wednesday" post on a regular basis that I would have to research my archives to figure out when I was last in the habit. I have been neglecting the fun side and the daily life part of my blog in the past while, but now with a new year and so many changes, it is as good a time as any to revive these homely and fun practices. No better time, really, than when one is at the western edge of an historic blizzard!





Winter Storm Warnings appeared on Sunday here, and were not in effect for Apache County, AZ just 12 miles to the west. The storm formed here, where all the weather maps showed the front forming and the Jet stream was just east of us. The first precipitation started Monday afternoon, in the form of sleet that turned to snow.







It snowed in bands interspersed with sunshine all day Tuesday. Here at the edge, we were getting blowback from the rotation of the storm cell. On Tuesday evening, the dogs and I enjoyed a spirited ball game, the Canine Super Bowl, in weather that was reminiscent of Soldier Field.







It snowed all night Tuesday to Wednesday morning, and the Cross Quarter dawned gray and cloudy, but soon turned to sunshine as the cold front finally rotated back to us. A snow day for the CIT meant that we fed the cattle in the light. Domestic cattle do not scrape off the snow to get at the grass. They must be fed when the snow is on!


The snow in this picture is deeper than it looks--about six inches fell on Ragamuffin ranch.



This snowy hillside is the view from my new office window in the house at Ragamuffin Ranch. It was taken this afternoon, when the storm had passed and the cold had come on.

Although it is quite cold outside, the sun coming through the picture window feels warm on my face.





A combination of fog created by the sublimation of the snow by the intense sunlight and windblown surface snow obscure the side vents of the Red Hill caldera to the northeast, making a kind of foggy ground blizzard in the plains north of our valley. Beautiful. And deadly cold.

I don't know if old Punxatawney Phil saw his shadow or not, but I do hope that we get an early spring this year! Last year it was quite late, and I am still shell shocked from the two-storms per week regimine that we endured last year. I like snow. And we need it. But the bitter cold, I can do without.



5 comments:

Anonymous said...

"I have been neglecting the fun side and the daily life part of my blog in the past while, but now with a new year and so many changes, it is as good a time as any to revive these homely and fun practices."

Yes. Maybe even preferable.

Elisheva Hannah Levin said...

Hmmm. Anon. You didn't like the Geology Field trip? Or the Mucking story?

Anonymous said...

Sigh! No, exactly the opposite!

You write well, it's pleasurable to read you, and it's the daily life part of your blog that I prefer--and missed.

I understand that your Libertarian and political posts are near and dear to you; they simply aren't to me.

PLEASE don't take this as an attack on you, it's not, we can all get along even if we don't all see things the same way.

Mucking? Well, I've helped tilt the outhouse over, shovel the muck onto a horse-pulled wagon, and head for the corn field.

Geology Field trip? I worked for the Water Resources Division of the USGS for several years, as a computer type, and have been on field trips with hydrologists/geologists.

And I've avidly read the McPhee books you write about in your next post.

G-d be with you.

Elisheva Hannah Levin said...

Anon. No sigh necessary. I was wondering because the Field Trip and the post on Mucking did seem more like the fun of nearly wordless Wednesday, although they were not in that kind of program.
You can skip the Libertarian posts, and just let my friend Mark beat his head against those.

HaynesBE said...

Love the photos--and the Geology field trip--and the philosophical meanderings.