"Waddya mean, I'm going crooked?"

The last of the snow for this year, we all hope. Photo taken from the balcony last week.

Three of the residents of this building got busy and shovelled all the snow off the driveway, just in time for it to start raining.

And it's been raining off and on since; it's raining again right now. There are only a few small patches of snow left on my lawn, the rhododendron has lifted up its crumpled leaves and is all over buds. The varied thrush didn't bother to come by today, nor did most of the juncos. Life is back to normal.

For how long, though? On The Island of Doubt, James Hrynyshyn reports on the expected Feb. 2 report of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change that, it seems, will warn us:

It is "very likely that hot extremes, heat waves and heavy precipitation events will continue to become more frequent."

Leaving aside the ongoing argument about how much of this is our fault, and how much is just nature taking it's course (as if we weren't a part of this "nature", anyhow), and whether or not we can do anything at this late date to turn the dial back, it is still clear that we are in for a rough ride. This old universe is not a friendly place. Beautiful, yes, but not hospitable to us.

As for man, his days are as grass: as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth.

For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no more.

Psalm 103:15,16