Local Conditions.

9:15 a.m.
It's raining, a slow steady rain, clouds a white flat dome. The birds are keeping at their business right on through it, and we've got the regular percussion of tires on wet pavement out front. On days like this, I love our stop sign. The fancies took the QPF down a peg, but I still think we might get lucky— so cross your fingers out there, friends and fans of weather. I'd give us maybe a tenth so far, maybe just a little less. Today's an odd day, one that'll have me running for give or take the next twelve hours, but keep it tuned right here, folks, for the very latest, for all of the other ways to say it's raining, or still raining, for all the other ways to describe the sodden sky.

12:09 p.m.
Heavy rain in 27244, and looks like the same back in 27408— but they're already revising downward, and I'm already getting sad. We'll be lucky, now, to get an inch. Not that I should complain about that, but there's something of the old snow forecasts from when I was a kid in all this, something like looking outside and seeing that it's snowing but not sticking, or waking up to snow but not enough of it to keep you home. I'm doing my best, though, to be happy with what we're getting. Like when I got a new bike for Christmas the year I was 10 — it wasn't a Diamondback, but it was still a bike.

4:02 p.m.
It appears to have broken into showers in 27408. We may get another shot late, like we did with the last storm. Looks like about a half an inch so far, which is no small potatoes, but which is maybe not quite worthy of the, ah, QPF excite-o-ree, and maybe not quite worthy of the frequent frantic updates. There is, though, this: It was (is still, here in 27244) a beautiful, perfect rain, more soft than not, which promises to soak in rather than run off, good for recently tilled gardens, good for emergent bulbs, good for the trees, good for weathery types. It rained. It's chilly. Yesterday it wasn't. And didn't. Yesterday was warm. Clear. This counts, I think, as weather.

12:11 a.m.
Big fog.