Seasonably Cold.

What snow there is left in the yards makes a map of the shady places, of the northern sides of trees and shrubs and whatever all else is out there: recycling bins, tricycles, failed water heaters. The sun keeps holding low to the south. It's supposed to. It's January. I'm just saying.

They're wanting for us to have maybe one more shot of this tomorrow morning— a little freezing rain, a little freezing mist and fog. One more Winter Weather Advisory. Those folks in Blacksburg and Raleigh are sure as shit earning their pay this week. The advisories always begin this way: "URGENT - WINTER WEATHER MESSAGE." I think the NWS ought to hire out a late-1970s wood-paneled station wagon and hook a loudspeaker to the roof and just drive up and down the streets shouting out urgent winter weather messages. My friends Jason and Joni Podarez had one. Station wagon, that is. Their parents did. Brown-on-brown. Rear seat facing backwards. A Caprice. Their parents were named Jan and Jon. There was a baby. Some other J— Jean or Jackie or something like that. We played baseball in their back yard a lot. Metal bat, tennis ball. You could hit it forever. Joni was a lefty. I remember that, remember her standing all on the wrong side of the plate when it was her turn at bat.

It's so cold the cat water on the screen porch has been frozen for days. So cold the pansies look sauteed. So cold the front porch is making creaks and groans I've never heard before when I walk across it. So cold I went out there last night at midnight to feel how cold it was. It was cold.

Best guess is we hit 13 last night. Headed back down to 20 tonight. But it'll be 45 on Wednesday. A heat wave. That kind of weather's going to make me want to head out into the back yard, knock the ball around a little bit. Hit pop flies.

All this is refreshing, actually. Interesting. Winter. Right. I remember this, I think.