The winds for the past two days have been viciously cold. A major dip in the jet stream has forced cold arctic air further south than usual and with winds. Today, I woke to another 10cm or so of snow, which delayed took longer to remove than I'd planned for the morning. When out in the almost knee deep plough detritus, it was slow slogging. The weight of the ice and slightly wet snow took more muscle work than the light fluffy stuff I'd moved elsewhere in the yard. As I was nearing the worst of the ice and snow, I turned to throw a shovel full aside only to be faced with the sidewalk plow and driver. He'd been coming up the street. I stepped aside and he cleared all that remained in two quick pushes. I grinned like a fool -- it was so unexpected and a delightful act of kindness. On the walk into the office, walkways were very slippery. They had been cleared earlier but the snow continued to fall lightly. At the top of the hill, I paused on the island to wait for oncoming traffie before crossing. A large semi-trailer was heading into the road. I calmly waited for him to pass, but slowed and came to a full stop. Another major act of kindness. Starting back up through all those gears is not an easy process -- especially when he was only heading about a block further before turning into campus to deliver to the main meal hall.
After lunch, major snow squalls began. These sea-effect of on-shore flurries bring whiteout conditions, particularly with the winds that drive the squalls inland. Accumulations can be huge or minimal. This seemed to be average, but I felt sorry for the bus driver who was heading into this on the way to the city and airport. I was also glad that we had this option for my colleague to get to the airport to fly home today. Given the micro climate zones found in hilly, coastal communities, the squalls didn't cover the whole province and were far less severe within an hour east and west of us. I did ponder the word squall today -- an odd sounding word. While it is used almost exclusively in weather reports at present, online searching noted it may have come from older English as a combination of 'squeal' and 'bawl' of from Scandinavian words for loud surprised sound -- a word to describe a disturbance or commotion. There are likely other origins for the word, but it sounds somewhat odd and sees a narrower usage at present.
The weather reminded me of song lyrics that talk about travel and cold winds. The style is unique -- an odd mix of folk rock with a sound that seems to be Tudor-esque. The lyrics provide poetic imagery. Enjoy!
Cold Wind to Valhalla -- Jethro Tull
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