Rain, Sleet, and Snow

St Padraic's Day was blessed with spring weather. The next day was even warmer, especially since I had traveled south to the Northern Neck of the Potomac. Hal, Ms. Carolina, and I stood at the end of the dock. A super-sized moon was rising over the far shore and the equinal sun was setting behind a line of yellow pines. The lilting breeze offered a promise of an early spring, even though the maples were leafless.

"Guess winter is over." I was standing in a tee-shirt and jeans, contemplating tomorrow's leap into the Potomac. The temperature was predicted to be in the 80s. The cold water wouldn't kill me.

"Hush your mouth," Ms. Carolina barked at my side. She had lived in Virginia over 35 years, but her childhood was a product of the Adirondacks, where winter holds onto the cold and snow for a month longer on each end of the season.

"I have a good feeling for new season." I flexed my knuckles. They had been weapons in the hundreds of fights that I waged over the decades. No cracking meant dry weather. Snap, crackle, pop was a good indication of wet. I heard nothing and expected to greet the morning in bathing shorts.

My knuckles were right about the moisture, however the temperature dropped through the night. Morning dew glazed the lawn. I defied my better judgment and performed my death-defying swim in the river. Ms. Carolina gave me a towel and her husband handed me a glass of Dewar's Scotch.

"How long you think you could have lived in that water?" Hal had been an officer in the Navy. His friends had cruised the North Atlantic in warships. Not all of them returned home to Newport News.

"Four minutes."

"A fisherman might make it ten minutes."

"I heard of some people lasting 40 minutes." I'd have to google the Nazi experiments of cold water immersion to be sure. There was no internet service on the Northern Neck. I told Hal that I would check on the data later.

When I got home to Brooklyn the following night, Fort Greene had reversed the sweep of the season from spring to winter. Snow fell on Tuesday night and Wednesday evening was a melange of hail, snow, and rain. I was wearing heavy tweeds impervious to the cold and wet. Even my knuckles were safe from the chilly damp in cashmere lined gloves. Ice pellets bounced over my Donegal cap. I was ready for winter, but not another two months of it and this weekend the forecast is for more snow.

Damned global cooling.