January 27, 2012, Washington, DC: It’ll turn on you without warning, the weather down here in the Mid-Atlantic. A morning like today’s — windows down… the temperature a balmy 61 degrees and rising… dark, severe, layer cake clouds luring you out for a long, warm morning run — and it’s impossible to remember what January is supposed to feel like. Today’s scene is offbeat. Distracting. It’s nothing like that season a few years ago that you swore you’d never forget and yet can’t quite recall in the warmth of this morning.
It will turn on you without warning, the weather down here. It’ll stab you in the back. A day like this one is full of false hope. Denial. It will trick you into believing spring has sprung. Starting the day this way will convince you it’s too late in the season for a snowstorm like the one on the books in winter 2010.
But this part of the country is cunning. Nevermind that you can’t fathom the reality of two year’s ago, buses heading through a blizzard to the Polar Bear Plunge: By day’s end, this morning is a distance memory, too. I’m pretty sure the landscape softened on the drive east. I think it was mid-morning when the fog thickened by the river. Did those heavy rain showers arrive later in the afternoon? That stunning sunset, if I remember correctly, was just moments ago, chunky clouds dramatically dancing around a clear evening sky.
It’s getting colder now. Maybe it will snow. Remember that crazy winter?