Midgardian weather is rather dull. In this part of the planet, this season usually brings a bit of relief from the scorching of summer. A respite, if you will, between triple-digit temperatures and the few crisp, clear days that herald winter at this latitude. Still, one day is much like the next, and it is BORING.
Day before yesterday, it was gray and dreary all day and we had a little bit of rain. Not that unusual for a December day.
Yesterday, it rained or drizzled ALL Day. Still not that unusual for this point on the planet’s path around the sun.
Today dawned damp and gray again. The weathermen said it was going to be cold and cloudy, with a chance of “wintry mix” late in the afternoon. What on Midgard is “wintry mix”? That could be everything from a sleet/snow concoction to randomized seasonal tunes on the radio to that vile brown powder that purportedly turns into “cocoa” when you add water.
By mid-morning, this part of the realm was under a broad swath of light rain that extended for hundreds of miles to the west, where temperatures were lower and actual snow was falling. The human female’s mother e-mailed just to gloat. I wondered about that until the human female explained that, this far south, snow is so rare a phenomenon that everyone hopes for it, much to the utter bafflement of citizens who live in places with strange names like Buffalo, Missoula, and Schenectady.
Clearly, they have never spent much time in Jotunheim, or they might have a different opinion of frozen precipitation.
The humans and Sigyn have somewhere to go after work tonight. I am teasing them on the way with a few little, sleety balls mixed into the rain, my meterological way of saying, “Neener neener neener.”
They have come out again, to the sight of half a thousand young Midgardians losing their tiny minds over this:
Some of them have never seen snow before. Even the human female, who hails from a part of the state where snow is a possibility once or twice a winter, is fairly giddy with delight.
I must admit, it is rather picturesque.
I had planned on just a few brief flurries, which is more than sufficient to snarl traffic in these parts, but it turns out that my beloved is a huge fan of crystalized dihydrogen oxide particles.
So I am getting my Frost Giant on and making it start to snow harder and, what is more important, to stick.
A quarter hour later, and it is up to our knees, as you can see. (Apparently, the human female’s phone camera does not like “dark with tiny moving objects.”)
It is snowing so hard that when Sigyn tried to make a snow angel, her precious little divot filled in almost as soon as she climbed out of it.
I am too dignified to lie down in this stuff.
I have not let it get cold enough for this to stick on the roads, which means we should make it home safely, but all bets are off for tomorrow morning, when all this wet stuff should be ice.