Looks like Hillmomba's neighbors to the north received a SURPRISE four inches of snow overnight. No, I'm not talking about lands north of the border, approaching the Arctic Circle. A mere fifty miles above us as the crow flies over the unstreetlighted terrain, a mini-blizzard occurred. Don't that just beat all! Meteorologists with state-of-the-art electronic gewgaws were bumfuzzled by this blanket of fluffy HtwoO. Maybe they can requisition a case of tea leaves for future prognostication. Or mail-order a drawstring bag of tiny bones from Appalachia to assist in foretelling foul weather.
Nary a flake to be had here in Hillmomba. Sunny, cold, and windy. We don't mind. It's not like us to begrudge our neighbors their winter. We had a little eight-inch blast right after Christmas. Besides, snow is wasted when it occurs on weekends and holidays. The snow that matters is snow during times of school. Hope still springs eternal that we will garner a few snow-day notches on our belts before springtime. We're halfway there, you know. And that dastardly Punxsutawney Phil had the audacity to declare an early spring would be forthcoming. Way to go, Phil. Hopedasher. Funsucker. How many children's tears will it take for you to learn some tact?
The goats are grazing in the front field like they are situated on a mountaintop with Heidi. I am making sure to prepare something for Super Bowl supper besides cheese and crusty bread. No, Grandmother has not browbeaten me into scamming soft rolls from sophisticated dinner tables in town. I just don't want anything untoward to happen that would interrupt the gridiron gang. You don't mess with football fans. No need to incur unnecessary wrath.
History is not going to repeat itself on my watch.