Not Exactly SRO

Last night's snowfall kept an awful lot of people and vendors away from this morning's Dane County Farmer's Market at the senior center.

My Darling B tucks into her chicken-friend buffalo.

That's right: Chicken-fried buffalo. I would've never thought of it, either, but that's what they were serving for breakfast at the Dane County Farmer's Market this morning, along with fried eggs and a scoop of grits smothered in gravy, a cup of cranberry juice and a bottomless cuppa joe, all for six and a half bucks.

Prelude to the Blizzard

Snow began to fall in the evening, and the lowering clouds reflected the city light back at us.

100% Chance of Snow

The back yard appeared to be even brighter than the front.

My Darling B reviewed the forecast and found they predicted a 100% chance of snow. She seemed troubled by the certainty of the science. "How can they predict absolutely that, without a doubt, snow will fall?"

Snowmelt

The temps have jumped from below-zero to mid-forties. Everybody's out in their short jackets, or shirtsleeves, circling capital square once again.

The warm weather has melted off almost all the snow and it's running across the sidewalks in reflective sheets. The reflection of the YWCA - the old Hotel Belmont - jumped out of the water at my feet as I strolled up Mifflin Street.

Lost in the Lights

Looking up into the whalebacked ceiling of a big theater with the house lights on is sometimes so much more like staring into infinity that it makes me dizzy.

Distinguished Lecturer in Time Lapse

My nifty digital camera can snap photographs under many adverse conditions. It can't, however, take a picture of Sarah Vowell when she's standing, floodlit, on center stage at the Memorial Union. Too bad.