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This morning’s weather phenomenon was hail, suddenly pouring out of what we believed was a clear blue sky.
That’s the little dots you see here.
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Craning my neck, I perceived clouds that warranted a trip outdoors.
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My, where had they blown in from?
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They provided one of those marvelous light shows, all the more dramatic with snow still in the picture.
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It is shrinking fast and the snow pile in front of the driveway has diminished by perhaps a third.
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The driveway itself is almost clear for the first time in weeks, but we’re not entirely done yet with winter.
Snow is in tomorrow’s forecast, though it’s likely to turn to rain – followed by further freezing.
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There’s a word to describe this winter:
Schizophrenic.
Inclined to frequent sudden mood changes.
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Over the more than 40 years I’ve spent in New York State, I don’t remember ever experiencing such dramatic and frequent ups and downs of temperature.
Gone are the days when you could rely on the seasons.
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But, there have been years past…
536 AD, 1816 – years without summer.
Years that end in 6. Maybe next year?
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It was a bit of a nuisance for the Romans who fought their military campaigns during the summer months.
As if they didn’t have enough to contend with.
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You can’t view Roman ruins and not admire their accomplishments.
Years ago, I belonged to a book club and when needing to make a selection I chose The First Man in Rome.
The author, Colleen McCullough, had written The Thorn Birds which I had enjoyed.
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When the book arrived, I was somewhat staggered by its size, but in due course I picked it up and I was hooked on the first page.
It ended up being a series of 7 books, all equally wonderful.
Afterwards, I moved on to other genres including many books about animals and birds.
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Eventually I had to abandon these, as I became too emotionally upset by them.
Last Dog on the Hill was one such.
Judy was another.
Lovely books, both.
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Judy was, I think, the book that persuaded me to give up on this genre.
It was ridiculous, I fully realised, to be so devastated reading the story of a dog that was gone before I was even born. She had lived a long life and been very well cared for.
What was wrong with me?
Sad animal stories had always upset me, but my grief over Judy was out of proportion.
Looking back, I can see that it was about far more than a long-dead dog. During that period, I was processing previously unacknowledged grief.
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Another series I followed eventually moved into the World Wars.
It was the story set in WW1 that did me in. Another genre to be abandoned.
Not long after, I decided to go back to ancient Rome which proved safer!
Disturbing, certainly, not least because so much of what happened in those long ago days is alarmingly familiar, proving that mankind does not learn from its mistakes.
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Somehow though, I’ve managed to keep my emotions detached from characters who lived some 2,000 years ago, though I will admit I have always had empathy for poor maligned Brutus.
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Conn Iggulden is but one historical author I’ve followed.
You often write about upstairs and downstairs, yet your property seems single-storey. I’m confused. (Not that it takes a lot to confuse me!)
The upstairs – downstairs was at my last home where we lived on three levels. That was the house I bought specifically so I could have the foster home. All those stairs were seriously hard work! One level much better!
Oh…when I say the cats go downstairs here, I mean down to the basement.
Thank you, Carolyn, for the wonderful post devoted to books and their influence on readers! I love books with a passion and collected many on every subject.
You might be happy that spring is just around the corner, I certainly am, especially since daily news is getting worse and worse, and only sunshine can improve my day after watching the madman in charge of your beautiful country.
Joanna
I agree with you that reading historical books, fiction or non-fiction, makes you aware that nothing had really changed in almost 3,000 years. We have such bright sunshine this morning that it is actually hurting my eyes. Not complaining.
Best wishes, Pete.