Twice today I was stopped by people who wanted to know what I thought about the snow forecast for tonight into tomorrow. What do I think about it? I want it.
Two to four inches? Sure. Three to six? Fine. Four to seven? Sign me up.
But I’ll admit, I feel like I’ve been burned by the past several forecasts of snow. I’m not blaming the weather dudes and dudettes. They’re doing the best they can. Storm movements are hard to predict. I understand that.
The past several forecasted snows have failed to materialize in quantities that many of us desire. We hear about two to four inches and get a half-inch. Or a quarter-inch. Or a scant sixteenth.
I thought maybe I was being too greedy, almost demanding from the weather gods that we get the snow we deserve. So, the last time snow was predicted, I decided to be cool. I didn’t get pushy. I simply sat back and put myself in a good frame of mind to receive whatever the sky could send our way. Pfff. Another sixteenth of an inch. Pathetic.
So, I’m not getting my hopes up this time. I don’t want to be Charlie Brown, optimistic that maybe this year Lucy won’t pull the football away when he tries to kick it.
We all know we need a good touch-up snow. We need a fresh coat of white on snow that has become crusty and goobery and gray. If it’s more than a touch-up, fine.
But I’m not getting my hopes too high. If it comes, it comes. That’s my public position.
(Privately, I’m thinking six inches would be good.)