If you live in New England, you're a weather watcher, if not an obsessed weather junkie like me, and, the events of 32 years ago this week still fresh in your mind, you like to be prepared. So, what with dire warnings from all the weathercritters of doom! woe! at least six inches in all of eastern Massachusetts! it wasn't surprising that school was dismissed early, meetings were canceled, and people arranged to work from home and, after a quick dash to the grocery store, hunkered down to await the onslaught.
Make that nonslaught. The forecast numbers were downgraded, and downgraded again, but we were still promised two to five inches as darkness fell. I don't have a picture for you, see fallen darkness above, but looking at my deck railings it's pretty clear that we have, oh, at least a tenth of an inch out there.
In our household, snow falls onto our walks and driveway and into two categories: negotiable by wheelchair, and requiring massive crack-of-dawn effort to clear a wheelchair-width path from the door to the street. This non-easter definitely belongs in the former category, and far be it from us to complain.