The bitch-slapping continues, but it's PURTY

Yesterday's slapfest began with hail. Possibly the most intense hailstorm I've ever experienced, which is something coming from a Midwestern gal. It completely covered the ground in white like snow. Here is our front walkway, with mug inserted for scale:


The pounding on the house grew so loud that Nelly resigned herself to the end of the world and took refuge under my desk, basking in the grim satisfaction of being proven right that the world is headed for hell in a handbasket so long as she isn't in charge of it.

But she was mistaken, because then the hail turned immediately into snow. Enrico took the dogs out for a long walk, because they LOVE snow, especially Nelly. It's probably the only thing that turns her curmudgeonly soul back into a playful puppy. She rolls, she flings snow up into the air gleefully with her snout, she digs, she hounds Toby to chase me, chase me, CHASE ME NOW! Then Enrico attempted to shovel our sidewalk with a garden shovel since we don't own a snowshovel. Why? BECAUSE WE LIVE IN SEATTLE, that's why.

The end result this morning is a layer of crushed icy hail covered with four inches of snow. The radio keeps insisting that Seattle "only got about an inch of snow," proving once again that the entire south end of the city apparently forgot to turn off its cloaking device, rendering us invisible to our fellow citizens downtown and northwards.

It would be no big deal in the midwest, but of course we have these big hills here and sometimes nothing short of tire chains will get you where you want to go. Enrico reported a slew of cars abandoned at the bottom of our hill last night. I had one appointment scheduled today, clear across town, and while I could probably make it in our trusty Subaru, it can wait. It's only my accountant.

Meanwhile, it's pretty. It's so very, very pretty. Here is the view out our bedroom window, just after sunup: