If You Don't Like the Weather, Just Wait Two Weeks

Last week, I went out and climbed up the ridge above Big Cove.  I wanted to look at some areas where we burned last spring.  In my boots—not skis, not snowshoes—I got to 9,200 feet, 1,700 feet above my truck.  Wow.  What a weird winter.  Three weeks ago, I posted about our five-foot snowpack.  Now I'm walking above 9,000 feet without a problem.  (There is still snow at 9,000 feet, but it isn't deep.)  Three weeks ago, it was routinely in the teens or single digits at night; last night, we didn't even have a frost.  Three weeks ago, we had two feet of snow standing in our yard; yesterday, I was deadheading blossoms in the garden.  We went from deep winter to early summer in fewer than 18 days.  I guess the only thing to be said about the weather is that it is always changing, but I'm not sure that I want it to be summer yet.