A bleak, colorful winter

I've been reading headlines predicting a bleak winter.  This is mainly due to COVID spikes and flu season coming upon us and the possibility of a "twindemic" of COVID and flu. 

A contentious election that some still want to contest isn't helping.

And election season is still not over in my state of Georgia, where voting will soon start for two Senate seats. My son recently said that the campaign ads were like a war.  He's not wrong. 

No one's mental health is good right now. 

I've thought about this "bleak winter" and I've come up with one antidote.

Color.

So recently, I fired the first shot in my one-woman war against this bleak winter.

I went to Walmart on Black Friday and bought an ugly Christmas sweater.

It's colorful, decorated with Christmasy decorations, and has a bunch of bells on it that jingle when you move.

Obnoxiously perfect, right?

Well, I think I will need to cut the bells off, because I want to wear this to church and constantly having bells jingle whenever you move is a little bit too obnoxious. 

2020 has been a long year.  It's been a bleak year. And winter is coming (nod to Game of Thrones).

One person may not be able to do much. But if I can bring some color to this bleak winter, I think it's a start.

Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.

Springtime in Atlanta

Springtime in Atlanta arrives in clumps of pink and white.

The cherry trees, with their pink blossoms, bloom first.  They are closely followed by the yellow of the daffodils and the forsythia bushes.

This is the time of year when winter and spring commence their annual dance, fighting over which season will dominate.  First spring pokes up a tentative head, usually with the cherry trees and the daffodils.  Winter roars back with dropping temperatures and the occasional attacks of frost and maybe a snowflake or two, enough to send metro Atlanta into panic.

Then winter dies down, and spring again pokes up its head.  It adds the white blossoms of the Bradford pear trees, followed a little while later by the lavender of the wisteria.

At this point, winter has a choice to make.  Does it make one last stand, or does it wave the white flag of surrender?

Sometimes, winter fights back.  I remember one week at the beginning of April when I thought the white stuff in the air was white blossoms from the Bradford pears.  It wasn't until I got out of the car and saw the "blossoms" melting on my coat that I realized they were snowflakes.

Eventually, though, winter must wave the flag of surrender.  Spring marches in, in shades of pink and yellow, lavender and white.  It's also accompanied by the greenish-yellow of pine pollen, which drives Atlantans to the car washes, to wash the pollen into the storm drains; to the drug stores, to buy decongestants by the boxful; and in some cases, to the doctor's office, where allergy medicines are prescribed.  The daily pollen count becomes a temporary staple of the weather report, along with WSB's Kirk Mellish's recitation of the pollen sources: "oak, cedar, grass, pine, ketchup, and mustard".

Such is the changing of the seasons in Atlanta, Georgia.

Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.

Hello, Remus!

Remus is the Weather Channel's name for the newest winter storm hitting the south.  It's beginning to sleet in my area of town as I write this.

Governor Deal and Mayor Kasim Reed are between a rock and a hard place.  If they overprepare, and nothing happens, people will scream at them.  If they don't overprepare and something happens, people will scream at them.

Right now, I am prone to think that Matthew could have gone to school today, and Frank could have gone to work . . . but I would prefer to err on the side of caution.

Matthew was not happy with the interruptions of his favorite shows.  I was holding up my hand to tell him to be quiet so I could hear and at one point he told me to "zip it!"

Today will be a day to try and pick up the house and to stay warm.

Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.