Thursday (late) morning. Gray, cold, wet outside. Drizzly snow 'till nine, then fog. Now partly cloudy and just above freezing. Hoping for some sunshine today...should definitely get some tomorrow. This is what spring is like at nine thousand feet. My patience has long since gone numb.
Finished Martine Batchelor's The Spirit of the Buddha yesterday. It is a fine recounting of the Buddha's teachings as gleaned from translations of the Pali Canons. The book has some structural problems and lacks any kind of concluding chapter. All the same it will likely become a reference for me for details that Ms. Batchelor's husband, Stephen, has elected to spare his readers. His may be the better approach.
Don't quite know what to start next. I've a coffee table full of books purchased for my birthday which I intend to work through over the next several months. I've still got Will Durant's The Age of Faith open and now have his and his wife Ariel's Dual Autobiography to peruse. Then there's a couple of new/old ones by Robert Fulghum. And some novels. I'll add all these to shelves in Moose Crossing after reading, but I'm having some trouble these days finding room. I've got to loose some non-essential magazines and older books or find another bookshelf. No room for that, so I'd best get to clearing things a bit.
I'll look for interesting ways to add insights from all this reading to my daily notes and reflections. Unfortunately, all too many of my entries of late have dealt with the subject mostly at hand, which is the ever-present challenge of all this snow. Weather does indeed dominate one's attention when it consists mostly of snow and related lousy weather. This particular winter has proved to be more noteworthy than most...it's a clear record (and perhaps heart) breaker. We have achieved 200 percent of normal snow fall. The moisture and snow exceed any that the locals I know can remember. The levels may not exceed the ferocity of the winter of '48, but that was over sixty three years ago, which is why no one I know has experienced a worse winter -- yet. I've heard that the flooding could exceed any seen in the North Platte Valley since the white man came to it and started keeping records. So, Suzie and I have muddled through what is perhaps the most extreme winter of our lives. My my. This mountain home is beginning to feel more like a predicament than a place to live.
The melt has certainly begun -- over a foot and a half while we were away last weekend -- but these persistent cold fronts are slowing the progress. I can now see into the valley from my office without clearing what falls from the roof and have cleared the piles in front of the front living room window and the picture window in the guest room. The snow in front of the bay in our computer nook is not worth messing with anymore, and the kitchen and bathroom windows are mostly unobstructed. But that doesn't mean we are in the clear. There is still a good four feet of heavy stuff all around the cabin and the piles on either side of the drives where I've thrown snow all winter remain above my head. We're at the half-way point this month to Memorial Day and the crews are nowhere near getting the Snow Range road cleared. They are hoping for mid June this year but that's a very late opening for crews that pride themselves on always having that road clear by the holiday weekend. As I said, this is a non-typical snow year. Sheesh!
At least the summers are short up here!
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