I'm Anne Johnson, and I love snow.
I have always loved snow. My fondest childhood memories include feet and feet of the stuff, sledding with my dad, building forts and snowmen, and just watching the fat white flakes fall from the sky.
But that was Appalachia. Now I live in southern New Jersey, 50 miles from the coast.
It's just really great to be able to hop in the car on a whim and drive to the beach in an hour's time. Breakfast ... ZOOM! ... sand under my feet.
But you know what happens in the wintertime? That ocean just 50 miles from my door influences the weather. It almost always feeds warmer air into snowstorms that change the snow over to rain. Or keep the rain from turning to snow. Or, if a storm hugs the coast, it snows like mad on the beach resorts and passes my town by.
DAMN YOU, OCEAN, WITH YOUR 40-DEGREE TEMPERATURE!
You know how frustrating it is to see winter storm warnings for freakin' North Carolina, and rain for New Jersey? Happens all the time.
Take this past weekend for example. The forecasters started their hype days in advance, for a snow event on Sunday night. When the event actually hove into sight, the forecast totals took a swan dive. From 3 - 6 inches we got downsized to 2 - 4. Then, when the precipitation started falling, it snowed beautifully for one hour, turned over to rain, and the rain washed away what little snow had accumulated. Meantime, the Poconos got a swell haul of 6 inches.
A similar scenario reared its head last night. The forecast called for a period of rain to turn to snow and accumulate between 1 - 3 inches. Sure enough, the rain moved in. AND IT STAYED. Around 10:00 it snowed lightly for about an hour, leaving no accumulation. Happens all the time.
Last year was better. We actually had a period of three weeks where there was snow on the ground every day. Unheard of in New Jersey! We actually got snow on top of snow!
Alas, that was a one-off. This year has brought back the usual hyped-up forecasts that devolve into rainstorms. There's nothing quite so dispiriting as a rainy January afternoon.
You would think that a lady of my age would not want to have to deal with a snow event requiring a shovel. Ha ha! I don't mind shoveling at all! I'll shovel the rare blizzard event with a vim that quite belies my age.
You know what I love? Shaking my fist at the snowplow as it undoes all the shoveling I accomplished. That's my idea of a good time.
The most heart-rending part of this rant is this: A good snowfall means an unscheduled holiday for school teachers and students. O frabjous snow day! Caloo, Callay! Nothing to do but linger over breakfast and shovel.
So far this year we have had zero snow days and zero delayed openings.
Where are the bored deities of snow? Why are they leaving me so rain-soaked this year, when all I ask is a little 3 - 6 inches of white loveliness?
It's the damn ocean. Remind me, next summer when I blithely set out for it with my beach bag, that it ROBS ME OF SNOW.