Let it blow, let it blow, let it blow…

We spent the last forty-eight hours watching our beloved snow weep away into the gutters, as rain fell across the mountains.

There are a few islands of white — some trails on Whiteface, the High Peaks — but let’s face it: It’s autumn again.

On top of the rain and unseasonable warmth, the wind arrived like a Canadian Pacific freight train, booming against the house, knocking down power lines.

Ugh. Maybe I’ll go over to Lake Placid this afternoon and stand in that little pile of snow that they shovel together for the tourists…