Archive

Don't Eat the Yellow Snow

Don't Eat the Yellow Snow

And she said, with a tear in her eye
Watch out where the huskies go,
And don’t you eat that yellow snow
— Don't Eat the Yellow Snow, Frank Zappa, from Apostrophe (1974)
Bare trees, gray light
Oh yeah it was a cold night
Bare trees, gray light
I was alone in the cold of a winter’s day
— Bare Trees, Fleetwood Mac, from Bare Trees (1972)
Come with me, dance my dear
Winter’s so cold this year
You are so warm
My wintertime love to be
— Wintertime Love, The Doors, from Waiting for the Sun (1968)

A few years back, I finally realized why it doesn’t snow as much as it did when I was back in the second grade—nothing to do with climate change. I am taller than I was 58 years ago. Hmm, now that’s quite a revelation.

This February may be making me rethink my height. The weather has been brutal, with snow levels on the parkways reaching 2.5 feet, and drifts towering high above the cars trapped within. While the snow is the visible manifestation of the storms originating high above the Pacific, the cold is what drives me back into the house. Somehow what should be westerly winds originate from the east, blowing off Lake Michigan, rushing down the side streets. Lou Rawls famously dubbed Chicago’s winds the Hawk. This February, the Hawk has been unleashed with a vengeance.

On my photographic outings, I’ve managed to avoid its chill, except on the tips of my fingers. It is difficult to operate a camera wearing gloves, so I am constantly removing my gloves, jamming my naked hands in my jacket pocket, and then returning my fingers to the gloves, fumbling with the camera in-between these gyrations. Eventually, I lose the battle. About 2.5 hours is my limit. Making things worse, there are very few open restaurants, hotels, and stores to take momentary refuge in, which actually may be for the best. Drink a hot cup of Starbucks Vente Espresso, and it isn’t cold fingers that forces me back indoors. The espresso just runs right through me.

I have been surprised by the absence of people outside. Usually there are more people on cross country skis or sledding in the park, but not this year. The streets are largely empty. I have also been surprised by the lack of Chicago Dibs—the time-honored tradition of digging your car out of a parking spot, and then leaving a lawn chair or some other piece of household trash to mark your spot. So far, I’ve only seen only one call for dibs. Truth be told, most cars haven’t left their on-street parking spots because the side streets are pretty bad.

In walking around my neighborhood, I’ve come to appreciate the property owners who shovel their walks, although trudging through 2.5-foot snow drifts eliminates the need for a session with my spin bike.

Despite the minor discomforts, winter is definitely the best time of year. There is nothing like highly visible weather and the resulting drama, particularly if you have a warm couch, Netflix, and multiple layers of sheets and blankets covering the bed. You gotta love the long nights.

[Click on an Image to Enlarge It]

The Source of All Goodness: My House

A Whiteout

Swoosh

A Clean Bench

No Bikers on this Path

And Then There Was a Biker

Been There

Buried Two and Half Feet Under (Plus an Additional Six, But Who’s Counting?)

The City of Chicago Honors Officer Brian D. Sicknick, a Victim of the Capitol Insurrection (1/6)

Too Much to Fathom

Auto-Portrait

Asphalt Surfiing

Posted Snow Route

This Weather is For the Birds

Happy Kid and a Sore Arm in the Making

Freezing My Ass Off

Black Lives Matter

Stan’s Comes Through

Financing a Warm Home

Awaiting the Call

Most Likely Headed to a Spinout on Lake Shore Drive

Don’t Sweat the Dead Battery

Staying Put

Hoping the Patio is Open for Business

Make No Assumptions

No Hot Pho?

If the Cold and Snow Don’t Get You, Don’t Fret Because Covid Is Still in the Air

Sustenance: Chicken, Biscuits, and Beer

Let’s Play Ball

Spring Training is Just Three Weeks Away

Nobody’s in Line for Tickets?

Site of Historic Bob Dylan Concert in Equally Cold Weather

A Hot Dog in Cold Weather, But No Ketchup

Hope You Remembered Your Phone

The First Spring Shoots

Historic Alta Vista, Where the Cars Finally Look Good

Frozen

Above It All (Almost)

And It Starts Up Again (and Again)

Get Some Smart-Ass Lip with Your Dog

Don’t Eat the Yellow Snow, and Don’t Assume It Was a Dog

Pillows From the Sky

Pillows From the Sky

Saint Lucy Rides Again

Saint Lucy Rides Again