White everywhere. Trees cloaked in white robes; street, patio, dog run all buried in another four to five inches. Small annoying storms that make it hard to keep up with the cleaning up.
Ground crew came beeping around early; shovelers arrived a little later to do door ways and hydrants. Of course, they followed up with buckets of sand liberally mixed with a brand of rock salt that came straight from Siberia and never made it through the grinding process. Chunks as big as the Hope Diamond.
Jenny the next door collie came to visit. Nick, eager to play, did some fancy footwork and scared her off. Then he barked to get her back but she was having none of his nonsense. She is a B-I-G dog. Her keeper tells me she has lost 40 pounds since she came just before the holidays. The dog, that is, not the keeper.
Prediction: more snow Saturday during the day. Not quite ready to call foul yet, but I would be happier with one good storm which everyone expects to deal with, then these pesky every-other-day showers.
Don't blame the weatherman. He just lives in his little cubby hole reading his isobars and dreaming of a really spectacular event. Go, Joe Cupo!