It entered ever so gently, a thin veneer more than a thing of substance. The day began with cloudy skies and a low of thirty four.
That unchanging condition lingered through most of the day. There were spits of rain and sleet. Just spits. Nothing more.
There was no wind. There was no rush to hurry through. It lingered.
Too cold for chores, but not so bad that a short stroll was out of the question.
The daffodils would be safe. With no wind and no heavy wet snow, bent stems are unlikely. Even the diagnosed cold wasn't cold enough for fear.
By mid-afternoon the spit began to splatter. Flakes were mixing in with the sleet and rain. It started to stick to the canopy.
The living hemlocks in the deep forest became clearly evident. It was time for a nap.
Hours later all hell broke loose. A heavy snow burst swept over the mountain. The ground was covered in less than two minutes.
We have entered a stem bending daffodil danger zone. Too much weight on fully open flowers can cause the supporting structure to collapse. That is bad.
This coming week showed promise of being the peak of the the Bulbapaloozathon.
The snow burst has tapered off to a more gentle, less binding sleet. The wind is still calm. I have my fingers crossed. What will the morning bring?