A Word About The Weather

I've been complaining for months, and people have been asking, so here's a few pictures of the snow piling up around the house.

I suppose, all things considered, it's not the most snow ever accumulated in one spot--that distinction being reserved for glaciers, and nordic tundras, and such.  It is, nevertheless, and a whole bunch more snow than I'm used to dealing with.  Much, much more than Bergen is used to seeing.

I'm sick to death of the stuff.  I want it gone.  Dead.  Undone.  Yesterday.

My apologies for the bad lighting.  I meant to get out first thing this morning to take these pictures when the sun is at its wintery brightest on this spot on our front porch, but...you'll note the fresh layer of snow on the stairs.  It was SNOWING again first thing this morning, so there was no wintery brightness to be had from the sun first thing this morning.  Go figure.

Note the bottom most layer.  That layer dates back to December 19th, that first big storm just before Christmas that dumped two feet of snow on us over night.  I thought that was a lot of snow.  I thought it was more than enough.  I thought, surely that's our quota for the year.  How foolish and naive was I?

That's right.  The snow piled up outside my front door is now taller than my husband.  He's absurdly cheerful about this fact.  He thinks this has been the greatest winter EVER in the history of winters.  He thinks every winter should be just like this one.  Dry, cold, and thick with more snow than your roof can comfortably handle.

There's now been snow on the ground in Bergen for 75 consecutive days.  That's beat the last record of 62 days set clear back in 1918 by a very comfortable margin.  This sad, lumpish snowman, wallowing knee deep in layer upon layer of snow, was made by Mister and the kids three days before Christmas.  Three days before Christmas.  It shouldn't be possible.  But there it is.

One of the lead stories on Bergens Tidende's website as I write this is: The Rain Is Coming!  The Rain Is Coming!  Okay, so it's not quite that jubilant, and it's become increasingly difficult to believe anything any meterologist has to say about anything so impossilby unfathomable as the weather, but apparently, there's talk of rain all next week.  All next week!  That might not be quiet enough to melt away the 6 feet of snow outside the front door, but it should spell doom for Norman, the lumpish snowman, and (fingers crossed) it just might fill my well enough that I can take a proper shower for the first time since Christmas!

And now, if I may, a brief word about my birthday, which was yesterday:

A most unexpected, thoughtful, wonderful surprise.

The sun broke through the clouds just moments after the delivery man handed the box over to me, so in a way, Jilly, for a minute anyway, they did stop the snow. Thank you so much. I'm slightly overwhelmed, but you have no idea how much I needed them.