[at-l] <Brrr!>

[ellen at clinic.net (Bob C.)]

It was a frosty minus 5 at 8 a.m. here on the mid coast of Maine. But the sun
was shining bright and reflecting off an inch of crusty snow and into my solar
energy collectors (some call them windows). The temperature inside had already
climbed to 65 by 8:30. At 9:30 it is inching above 70, with the help of a small
fire in our kitchen range. By noon the fire will be out and I'll open a window
to cool things down a bit.

 However, it is mornings like this that convince me not to make midwinter starts
 on the AT in Georgia. In 1993 at least I found the climate on the high ridges
 and summits of Georgia and North Carolina identical to what I usually find on
 the coast of Maine. The red maples started to bud and leaf on about the same
 dates. The violets, bloodroot, and may flowers bloomed at the times I would
 have expected them to bloom at home.

 I love four day winter expeditions. But two months of same, strike me as a bit
 much.

 Weary