Graupel (German pronunciation: [‘g?a?p?l], also called soft hail or snow pellets) refers to precipitation that forms when supercooled droplets of water are collected and freeze on a falling snowflake, forming a 2–5 mm (0.079–0.197 in) ball of rime.
~Wikipedia
I can identify with graupel. I’m SuperCool, too.
Memorial Day has come and gone, and still it snows in nasty, ice-mixed little spats.
It literally feels like being spat upon, by wintery dregs.
Wet Spring snow loogies.
“Have you no respect for our arbitrary Human Holidays?!” I cry out to the skies.
Well, Weather, I doubt you read blogs but in case you do, THIS is how you have been acting this year.
On the other hand, I can’t complain because I did just get my first Summer Sunburn camping out at State Bridge this Holiday weekend.
Not to mention, had Mighty Mouse at my side. So we had a grand ‘ol time.
Yet the general perception that State Bridge Festivals are drug fueled carousals; Well, it’s absolutely correct.
I witnessed a costumed dinosaur dry hump a toady fellow dressed as a frog. No one should have to see that.
The many workshops and incredible music opportunities provided a great alternative to the reptilian side of things.
Mighty Mouse, VailMan, and I took to the Colorado River atop ‘Paddleboards.’
Now, I can only speak from about thirty [30] minutes worth of experience, but it is not my thing.
In that time I was cut off about ten [10] times by dudes in embarrassing outfits, attached to their expensive looking boards by shiny key-chain springys. They would douche into the little current and twitch about for a moment before jetting off.
Something about their attitude reminded me of teleskiers. Not the worst but also not my favorite 1%. (As per the unofficial results of my Market Research Data job at Keystone Ski Resort this winter).
I, meanwhile, had managed to get beached in a shallow pool of rocks and forgotten even the basic motor functions required to paddle.
Finally drug myself to the far bank where my patient friends waded and waited, luring me into yon thicket with the promise of Dinosaur Tracks.
I was disillusioned when we came out on railroad tracks.
About .17 miles beyond that though, stands a wall of rock on which a series of massive prints belie the fact that dinosaurs could, in fact, walked straight up walls.
What really made the weekend for me, was the music and quinoa stuffed pepper dinners.
Bands such as Yamn and Whitewater Ramble thrilled me through and through.
Favorite kind of music?
Live.
Or how about Jaden Carlson, a fourteen [14] year old who wails on a guitar which stands as tall as she.
All in all, it was a good weekend and a great way to start the summer.
Except Winter keeps interrupting.
What to do?
Ride A-Basin.
Comments (1)
Your mother warned you about what happens to people who go to such carousals (not to be confused with carousels) “blue jello, red jello, Yellow Jello!”