Today in Chicago we set a record of 280 days between “measurable snowfall.” (The key factor is the word “measurable.” Measurable snow is defined as one-tenth of an inch or more — any less is considered “trace.”) So while I was driving home from Iowa late the other night through some snow, nothing was measurable and, therefore, doesn’t really count, I guess.
My wife and I go back-and-forth frequently between staying in one of the world’s greatest cities, or selling everything and moving to a remote town in Italy. The seasons, and specifically, snow, are a big argument for me staying here. I love the snow and want more of it regularly. However, with global warming and general weather inconsistencies, it’s not working out too well.
The temperature was chilly during our stay there, and as we’d climb higher into the mountains the snow would make more of an appearance. As we hiked to the Tigers’ Nest, it was early and cool, and we saw plenty of snow. As we made our way up the mountain and the sun rose in the sky, eventually, all of the snow along the trail melted. As much as we saw prayer flags throughout Bhutan, it was pretty cool to see them covered in snow alongside the trail to the country’s most well-known site.