When I went out grocery shopping late Saturday night, I thought I could feel moisture in the air. In fact, When I came out of Sam’s, there was a fine mist on my windshield.
“This could turn into freezing drizzle and be really nasty,” I surmised. There was a state salt shaker prepping the intersection of William and I-55, so I wasn’t the only one concerned.
MODOT painted an ugly picture
My weather apps couldn’t make up their minds about heavy snow, light snow, no snow, etc. I saw a bunch of posts from truckers saying that north central MO highways were littered with wrecks, and a glance at the MODOT Traveler Information Map showed that almost everything but SE MO was painted as partially covered, totally covered or Don’t Even Think About It.
Facing a frosty flag
When ice finally did start forming, I debated taking a drive to see if it was worth shooting, but it didn’t look all that exciting, so I gave it a pass.
When I woke up this morning, I saw icicles hanging off the carport again. My all-weather, lighted flag had a strange look to it. It had gotten wet, then frozen overnight. It thawed out fine later in the day, but it looked odd for a few hours.
The closeup at the top of the page looks positively arty. You can click on the images to make them larger.
If it’s Wednesday night, that means it’s Liver & Onions night at The Mississippi Mud Tavern in Altenburg. Buddy Gerard and I usually top off the evening with a trip down to Tower Rock to check on water levels and see if any boats are passing.
This night, the only boat traffic we heard on my scanner was far, far away and breaking up, so the prospects of seeing a towboat go by was slim. Radar was painting some strong storms around, but they were mostly east and south of our position. Still, these clouds made for a pretty picture. Click on it to make it larger.
I was sort of hoping for a shot like this recent visit.
I ran into some heavy rain north of Fruitland, but Jackson must have REALLY gotten a deluge, based on how the creeks were running.
When Curator Jessica and I left St. Louis for Cape in the late afternoon Tuesday, we started out in drizzle to moderate rain. By the time we got south of St. Genevieve, we were in heavy rain, and from north of Fruitland through Jackson, we were in rain as hard as I’ve seen in some Cat 1 hurricanes.
Rain in St. Louis on Monday was heavy at times, but when I pulled onto Brother Mark’s street across from the Botanical Gardens, it had slacked off. The trees in his neighborhood still have some colorful leaves, but they are falling fast.
By the way. on the way home, I stopped at Pevely to top off my tank. Where I was excited about paying $1.73 a gallon for gas on Monday, it had gone down to $1.69. I noticed the price jumped in 10-cent increments the further south you drove.
I’ve never made a secret about how I’m not all that fond of Florida, even though we’ve lived here since 1972. I’m a Midwesterner at heart. I like rivers better than oceans; oak trees better than palm trees, clay better than sand, and folks from the Heartland better than refugees from New York and New Jersey.
Having said that, I do have to concede that this is the time of year that almost makes it worthwhile to live in the Sunshine State. Compare these late-afternoon photos taken on a bike ride around Hobe Sound in January 2012 with what is outside YOUR window right now.
The food at the Flash Beach Grille on Bridge Road is excellent, if a bit pricy by Missouri standards. The folks who run it are friendly, and you have your choice of indoor or outdoor seating.
One of the nice things about bike riding is that you are going slow enough that you can spot quirky things like this creative stone and inner tube Snoopy in someone’s yard.
Old light posts
The apparently non-functioning light posts along the highway look like they’ve been there a long time.
My bike’s not that colorful
My Surly Long Haul Trucker bike isn’t quite as colorful as this guy, but I bet it is more comfortable.
Shelter from the storm
Riding Partner Anne and I saw an afternoon thundershower moving toward us, so we took shelter, hoping it would blow through quickly. It did.
Before we hopped back on our bikes again, I had time to shoot this tree when the sun finally broke through behind us.
Here are more photos from another ride we did in the Hobe Sound / Jupiter Island area.