Bruce Laidlaw read yesterday’s post, which featured a careful selection of Sunny Winter Day images from earlier in the month. Then he looked outside his window at the thrashing Bay, and replied: Thanks for the new post. Things looked so nice. You couldn’t take those photos today. It’s blowing 35 [mph] here and it has been about that high all day. I can’t remember sustained winds that high. I went to the beach to try to capture the action, but wind is hard to photograph. And I had to wear protective glasses to keep my eyes from stinging.
Not pretty, eh? Mama Nature on a tear. Click on it for a bigger version if you like scaring yourself.
I know exactly what Bruce meant. I wrote yesterday’s post at the kitchen table over at Babs and Betty Jo’s, surrounded by windows. The only way to escape the vision of swirling snow would be to sit under the table, and even then I would hear the wind, booming. What the heck. I stayed where I was. Torch Lake was just a turquoise glow under the pale, whirling gray. It went on that way all afternoon.
When I got home last evening I could hear the Bay roaring. That’s a siren sound for me – I like to go see what it looks like when it’s in that mood. Yesterday . . . I trotted right up the stairs and into the house, locking the front door behind me. We are cozy inside, and dreaming of spring, with Dutchmen’s Breeches flapping on Mama Nature’s clothesline.
Meanwhile, Mr. Tootlepedal has been out looking at snowdrops. I recommend you go along for the ride. It will cheer you up.