According to my calendar, the vernal equinox happened well over a week ago. In case you didn't get the message, Northwest weather gods, it's supposed to be spring. Trees are leafing out, fruit trees are a' bloomin', daffodils have been up for a while. Get with the program, wouldja?
Weatherwise, the past 48 hours or so have been insane, or what the more temperate among us would call "dynamic." Snow flurries, hail, sleet, rain, sunshine. Lather, rinse, repeat. I turn off the reading lamp in the living room because it's so bright outside; next thing I know, I'm straining to make out words on the page, and look up to see an ominous charcoal-grey sky. A few minutes later: Hail, sleet, snow, rain... sun. Temps have not climbed out of the low 40s in days. Does this look like spring to you?
The silver, so to speak, lining is that it's awfully nice to take a hot tub in weather like this. The electrician was here last Thursday to do the final hookup. By Friday afternoon the tub was filled and up to temp. The hail hit, Jer and I looked at each other, and went for it. Yee haw!
The good news about slush on the lid of your hot tub is that the insulated cover is doing its job. Underneath that encrusted plastic shell is 350 gallons of steamy aqueous goodness. With jets and colored lights, should you so desire.
Whenever the weather become a major conversational topic around here, somebody asserts "This is so unusual." Yeah, right. I'm starting to realize that unusual = typical, for Portland. I kinda like it that way.