A Cold Start to the New Year

You know it. I know it. There's one topic that nearly always comes up when talking to a complete stranger.

No, it's not the latest rerun of Jerry Springer, although that could certainly spark a conversation, albeit mind-numbing.

It's the one shared experience we all have - a force that can warm you up, freeze you to the bone and, at times, get the remaining hair you have wet.

Ahhh, the weather.

From its loveable rainbows to its stubborn determinedness to prove all TV weathermen wrong - daily, it's been a love of mine for quite a while. Don't worry, my wife is fully aware.

It's a topic I enjoy and often bring up as I walk into the office and greet the front desk operators here at The Chronicle.

It's a topic I'd like to continue sharing with as many people as possible.

And that's where you come in.

My blog, which I've named Come Rain or Come Shine from a line in a Sinatra song, will, from time to time, give you what the experts are predicting, offer some interesting weather tidbits such as how hurricanes form or why your tongue sticks to a metal pole when it gets below a certain temperature, and will ask you to contribute your weather story for that day or even the weather conditions you're monitoring at your home. You could even offer weather tidbits or insights you'd like to share (doesn't everyone want to know how rainbows form?)

My paternal grandmother used to always say when looking at a beautiful weather day that no one paints like God. 

Every time I look out at a rain storm or, my favorite, a rare snowfall for Augusta, I recall her words.

Although we can't paint such a wonderful masterpiece, we can share in what we see, much like a curator of a fine piece of artwork.

Sure, some days it might feel more like Edvard Munch's The Scream in the midst of a foggy, cold day. But you just might spot that loveable jewel in the sky.

To get things started in the weather story telling business, thought I'd offer my own story that ranks more on the Edvard Munch side of things. It's about how wonderfully cold things have been lately.

I say wonderful as fall and winter have always been my favorite seasons. And after this past Thursday night, I still say wonderful - only now with a tinge of sarcasm.

My first day of the new year began colder than most. First know that I had been battling a cold and was looking for a nice, warm night, snuggled in tight with Nyquil-induced visions of a winter wonderland outside (temperatures were reaching the 20s that night.)  I know this because of my temperature monitor; Remember, I love weather.

Then I woke up, say about 4 a.m. The winter wonderland apparently had crept into my home after having some words with my heater and was there to bid me an early hello.

After realizing that no amount of hunkering down in a cocoon of blankets would do, I rolled out of bed, stumbled down to the new thermostat (a gift for Christmas) and began to tinker.

The temperature was just 60, but you would have thought I was backpacking in the Alps as much as I was shivering under the shroud of blankets I carried to the thermostat. As I shivered, flipped switches and reflipped switches, waiting for the hum of a heater that never came, I soon realized I was having no luck and my efforts and ranting were only further keeping awake my wife and our three cats - one of which was huddled under the remaining bed covers with feet just as cold as my wife's.

A short time later (OK, 30 minutes) I gave up and I joined my wife at a portable heater.

The next day my Dad got me in touch with a family friend (thanks Dale) who knows a bit about heating units. Turns out it had nothing to do with the thermostat and everything to do with a switch of some sort in the heater itself.

My wife called me Friday while I was at work to say all was back to normal, and that the wonderful cold was back outside where it belonged.

That night I told her it was hard to believe that just 10 degrees could make such a difference. As I sat in my kitchen, with the temperature back to a toasty 70, I realized just how great it was to be warm.

I looked out the window and again saw a winter wonderland in the smoky condensation rising gloriously and methodically from our unit - a sight that made me grateful and gave me a story to tell strangers.

I then turned on the TV, and, thankfully, Jerry Springer wasn't on.