The Turtles

Here are twenty-three turtles on a log in the Potomac River.  They are all Red-bellied Turtles (Pseudemys rubriventris).  (The species has appeared on the blog twice before.) 

I took the picture in May; now those turtles are sleeping in the mud at the bottom of the river.  And at this time of year we should all be sleeping in the mud at the bottom of the river. 

If you’re not able to sleep in the mud at the bottom of the river, at least take a few moments to think about the turtles who are.  

Icicles: Winter Is Coming

I saw these icicles over the weekend.  They are a reminder that winter is coming, or, if you, like me, go by meteorological winter, that winter is already here.  

“Winter is coming” is the catchphrase from the popular television series Game of Thrones.  I have never actually seen this show, despite the fact that it looks like the sort of thing that I would like.  Maybe one day I will take the time to watch it all.  Until then, I must rely on the basic knowledge that the characters in Game of Thrones live in an epic quasi-Medieval fantasy world, doing epic quasi-Medieval fantasy things, and occasionally reminding each other that winter is coming.  

For example:

[Somebody is fighting a dragon.]

[They pause.]

Somebody: Winter is coming.

Dragon: Yes, winter is coming.

[They resume fighting.]

Snow Thoughts

As I noted in my last post, I love snow.  The Washington area got some snow yesterday, even though it's March, and it's time to let the snow go, and yield the world to the frogs and the flowers.  The predicted accumulation was 6 to 10 inches, but where I am there was only 4 1/2 inches.  As I have probably written before, over the course of a life spent mostly in northern Virginia, I have seen countless days when there was less snow than predicted, but I can't recall a single snowfall that was bigger than predicted.  

A few weeks ago, I went into the District on a Saturday afternoon on the Metro.  It was supposed to snow that afternoon, but there was no snow.  I could only think how much better it would have been if it had been snowing.  

Since then, I have been thinking how fun it would be to have to make my way home from DC at the beginning of a huge snowstorm, a storm that would shut the city down for days. At my journey's start, there would already be six inches of snow on the ground, with another foot of snow expected over the next 24 hours.  I would catch the last Metro train out to the suburbs, just before the Metro shut down completely, then walk home through deserted streets, with snowfall so thick that I could barely see where I was going.  It would be a really awesome adventure, and afterwards it would feel really good to relax and have a nice snack.  

(Some of the same sentiments may have shown up in my Christmas story from last year.)

Hibernation

I love snow.  And I don't particularly mind cold weather, as long as I'm experiencing it in the later part of the day.  But I hate having to get up early in cold weather to go to work.  I'm pretty miserable any time that I have to get up before noon. Getting up when it's before noon and below freezing is almost intolerable to me. That is why I sometimes think that it would be nice if humans were to hibernate through the winter.  

In my plan, the natural period of human hibernation would be December, January, and February.  We would, however, force ourselves to stay awake through December, so as not to miss the holidays.  We would continue to work for the first three weeks of December, then close down business for the year, and relax and enjoy Christmas.  And we would celebrate New Year's Eve as normal.  But instead of getting up on January 1, we would stay in bed until some time at the end of February or the beginning of March.  

As I said at the beginning of the post, though, I do love snow.  Here is the one problem with my hibernation plan—we would miss out on the snows of January and February. And so perhaps we would not sleep solidly for two months, but instead wake up enough to sit drowsily by the window and enjoy the beauty of the falling flakes.