A freak chinook has hit, and it has warmed up to an utterly ridiculous 43 degrees above zero. This, the astute among you will note, is above freezing.
It would take several weeks of this to get rid of our snow, of course, but all of it has fallen off of the trees and sloped roofs. The groundcover snow has collapsed in on itself, shrinking and darkening up as it gets more concentrated in pollutants and birch seeds. The trees are bare twigs. The softness of the snow has vanished. There is a glass-like glaze over it and everything is much, much darker without the blanket of bright snow to reflect every light.
It would be like spring, but spring comes with... hope. Green things will be out soon. There is an end in sight. The days are getting longer.
This? This is January. There is no such hope. We've got four or five more months of cold and dark, still.
But now, instead of Christmas card compositions, we get nasty, leafless trees and compacted, dirty snow and it's still dark more than it's light.
Warm is ugly.
Whining about mother nature aside, BATTLESTAR GALACTICA!!!
It doesn't come on for another 5 hours here because it's tape-delayed, so if any of you people on my friendslist spoil it without an LJ-cut I will rip your eyes out and eat them for breakfast.
Ah, I mean... I love you and would hate to have to kill you.