But then, Jordan came to the back door, wanting to get his backpack out of the church. I got my socks and shoes on and took him over there. The back door had trouble opening because of the snow drift piled up against it. There must be eight or nine inches of fluffy whiteness out there, up to a foot and a half in the drifts. The main drag in front of my house is beaten flat, but you can't see the pavement for the snow.
In other news, James Hansen's old boss at NASA disavowed his whole global warming schtick. "The debate is over," said Al Gore. Sure is, Mr. Goracle, and you lost. Which just makes all the snow even prettier. Maybe we'll see a woolly mammoth lumber by today.