My neighbors on either side told me I was wrong when I wrote that it was twenty-seven below zero. They each had thirty-five below that night. I'm just as glad I didn't know that then. This long cold spell broke Sunday and the thermometer starting rising. The newspaper continues to call it a cold snap, but how can it be a "snap" when the mercury shivered in the bottom of the glass tube for more than two weels. That isn't a "snap."
This evening, it's thirty-eight above and Chinook winds are splattering my windows with rain. Just ducky! I have to drive to Anchorage tomorrow and I know the highways will be covered with black ice, which happens when we have a sudden thaw after it's been cold for so long and the asphalt is still frozen. So, this quick warm-up and rain on that cold surface will accomplish much the same as a Zamboni does on a hockey rink. It's dangerous as all get out. Oh, well. It'll throw some more adventure into the hundred mile drive...
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