Lunch at Chipotle #1. The last dregs of the lunch crowd were finishing up. The snow storm now falling was still on its way so the lighting in the room wasn’t as relentlessly gray as it is right now.
When I look out the window now, I can only take the existence of the Flatirons on faith.
So here I am again in the wonderful People’s Republic of Boulder (do they still call it that?) (Nobody tells me anything.) It is, as you might imagine, freezing. The temperatures these past days when we have been here are in what I like to term the basement of the world. When I last asked Siri, it was 5°. I do not want to talk to Siri any more for a while.
That’s the basement — figuratively. We have no actual basement here. We have a storage cage in the parking area which we lend to our neighbors because we haven’t accumulated enough stuff to need it, though I do try my best.
There has been some accumulation of frozen precipitation, but not enough to call it snow by Boulder’s standards, and definitely not enough for the people in the ski resorts to the west to call it snow. Time now for me to be pleased at not having added skiing to my sports, inasmuch as I have sports. Is Pilates a sport? Here it is.
Snow chairs. Yes, the snow here in Boulder really is this deep.
- Boulder snow (white-pebble.net)
It’s snowing in Boulder — nothing better from my point of view. At home in Cincinnati, we get endless gray skies punctuated with a bit of rain. Here, mounds of lovely fluffy snow with the promise of the return of the sunshine within a couple of days.
I shall spend my day doing Pilates (they have a whole Institute here for the stuff!) and writing. And inevitably, I shall end up writing about sunshine and summer in Cincinnati. I can’t stand the irony!