My old bull terrier, Murphy, loves winter. She really seems to come alive in the cold, and even loves frolicking in the snow.
This Friday, I have three videos of Murphy adapting to some wintry climes:
My old bull terrier, Murphy, loves winter. She really seems to come alive in the cold, and even loves frolicking in the snow.
This Friday, I have three videos of Murphy adapting to some wintry climes:
It is the deep midwinter, and even the Carolinas are getting their share of the white stuff. Murphy and I were up at Dr. Wife’s house in North Carolina this past weekend, and there was a little bit of snow on Sunday afternoon!
This weekend brings Winter Storm Fern, which is supposed to dump lots of snow and/or “wintry mix” and/or ice all over the Southeastern United States. Gulp! We’ll know more by Sunday.
In the spirit of wintry frostiness, here are a couple of recent videos from North Carolina all about the cold.
Last Wednesday, 22 January 2025, we had a rare snow day in South Carolina. It turned into two (as of the time of writing) days of virtual/distance learning, so yours portly got to enjoy a couple of quiet days working from home (something that the schlubs at the federal government won’t get to do anymore—ha!).
When The Age of The Virus first began, I really welcomed virtual learning, mainly because I was experiencing an extreme level of burnout. For the first time in my career, I felt like I could focus simply on teaching, instead of fulfilling all of the tedious little other requirements of the career. Even if kids were tuning out online, they were doing that anyway during class, and it was a welcome reprieve from what was becoming a very overwhelming profession.
Now, I am far more skeptical about virtual learning. A small minority of students thrive with the self-paced, independent, self-motivating nature of it; most students, however, struggle with that kind of latitude.
Aside from the damage distance learning can to do to young learners, however, there’s another, less tangible side effect: the death of the snow day.
“Murphy, Queen of the Arctic” sounds like an Edgar Rice Burroughs novella, but when we had snow on Wednesday (22 January 2025), my old girl enjoyed the hoary frost.
I got a couple of videos out of the deal, which I present to you now. Grab a cup of coffee or hot cocoa and cuddle up for some frosty videos:
It has been cold here in South Carolina, which is a rare treat. I like the cold, but even this weather is getting a tad ridiculous.
As readers can imagine, I spend a great deal of time inside my own head, and am constantly in dialogue with myself (it still blows my mind that some people don’t have an internal dialogue or monologue). That dialogue is often out loud. It also consists mostly of me saying silly things that amuse me. One of them is a pet phrase that I’ll utter on particularly cold days: “The bitter, wretched cold.” I’ll tug my collar or coat tighter around me, and I saw it with a slight British accent, like I’m a character in a Dickensian novella. I also roll the “r” in wretched. The whole thing is a quite amusing, at least to me.
To embrace the frostiness of this weekend—and the chance of snow!—I thought I’d take a moment to look back at some cold-related posts of yesteryear:
Stay warm out there, my friends, and pull those collars tight against the bitter, wretched cold.
Happy Sunday!
—TPP
Other Lazy Sunday Installments:
Near the end of 2023, I closed out my latest music journal. That got me flipping through some older journals, and I stumbled upon a couple of pieces I’d never arranged in Noteflight.
One of them was “Snowfall,” which I wrote sometime in 2022. It’s based around an Eb whole tone scale, giving it a mysterious, mystical sound.
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Trapped in the blizzard in Indianapolis, pipes bursting across the land (including in my older brother’s house), there was little to do besides sleep and let the responsible adults take care of things.
There are few things more reassuringly cozy than sleeping under heavy blankets in sub-zero temperatures. It’s akin to the feeling of being inside with power during a torrential downpour or powerful thunderstorm—the sense of safety and warmth is experienced palpably in those moments. In some ways, it’s even better to get soaked first, then to come into the dryness of the indoors.
But sleep can only forestall reality for so long. Driving to South Carolina on Friday, 23 December 2022 as I’d originally planned was out of the question, given the frozen roads. Tales of major wrecks and traffic snarls echoed across the land, so it seemed best to stay put.
That said, I desperately wanted to get home for Christmas. The weather, it seemed, had other plans, but I soon hatched a plan that, if all went well, would get me South in time for at least some of Christmas.
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As my older brother and I enjoyed our visit to Arizona, a massive polar vortex was making its way ominously towards the United States. We had some cool weather in Arizona, but reports were coming from back East that temperatures were dangerously low. My brother and his wife live in Indianapolis, so they were facing subzero temperatures, but even back in South Carolina, family and friends were reporting busted pipes and bitterly cold conditions.
There was some discussion between us about whether or not we should extend our trip another day or two, but the lure of Christmas and family was strong. We decided to head to the airport as planned to take our chances.
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