Yesterday had been widely touted as an opportunity for some snow, a rarity in our area. Journalists, of course, keep a wary eye on the weather, because the worse it gets, the more important it is that people know what the eff is going on. People come in early, stay late and all hands are needed on deck. (Pretty much no matter how yucky the streets get, you’re coming in to work.)
So it was really a relief that yesterday turned out to be a bust, freezing-precip-wise. Though we would have adored some snow. I sent my parents this description of a part of our morning, and since my mom was kind enough to say it was funny, I’ll reproduce it here. Of course, she is my mom.
On her way out to her car to pick up our (Friday lunch run), (my coworker) called from the parking lot to say there were flakelike articles in some of the air. News staff rushed to windows, squealed in glee. The flurry strengthened for several minutes but never once attained any white on the ground or indeed anything you could tell was a snowflake by visual inspection, except that they kind of fluttered instead of just dropping straight down.
A minute ago I went back to the window and sadly reported the flurry was over. Everyone asked for details, and I said, “Well, I don’t see anything coming down that looks like snow.” Everyone was bummed. Then I stood there watching for a few minutes… and then suddenly hollered “FLAKE!”
The newsroom howled with laughter (me too, of course) and I got the expected comments of “Yeah, I see a flake too!”
Your eye on the weather, that’s me.