Well, it's official. Since yesterday's snowstorm dumped another 10-20" on the region, the snowfall measured in Portland for this season is 102", officially above the average of 100". Who the heck comes up with these averages, anyway? The highest recorded snowfall is 141". I don't even want to go there.
I'm not even sure how much we received here, but it's definitely at least 10", and probably over a foot. The snow is so deep that Charlie refuses to go out in it. When he needs to answer Nature's call, he goes down the front steps and under the overhang in the front of the house -- the only spot where we have bare ground. He's only 22" at the shoulder, and the snow is over his head in some places. Greg took him for a walk in the woods yesterday, and Charlie just sat there and looked at Greg as though he'd lost his mind. He waited in the car while Greg went about on snowshoes.
Greg loves the snow and the wintertime, and nothing makes him happier than watching the white stuff fall. I have to admit that I enjoy the forced break from running errands, but I'm always annoyed at the effect on my mobility -- especially when it snows on the weekends. I had hoped to take my poncho-in-progress down to the local yarn shop and ask about the next part of the instructions, the part I'm having trouble visualizing. Maybe next weekend I'll get to that, unless Mother Nature wants me to stay here and make more UFOs (Un-Finished Objects) instead. Sigh.
At least the sight of snow always makes me want to knit, so I spent at least some of yesterday afternoon with the yarn. I made some more progress on the felted tote and started winding the balls of Noro Iro for the Fletcher sweater. (Note to self: Maybe a swift would be a good idea. I always, always, always turn the skein over on the wrong side after untwisting it and end up with a tangle instead of a nice, big circle of yarn.)
From the Netflix Queue
Greg and I watched The Motorcycle Diaries last night. It was definitely more than just your average road picture, even aside from the fact that it was based on Che Guevara's diaries from that period. It starts off as a see-the-country trip taken by two young men who want to experience something of the world before settling down, and instead becomes a major transformative experience for both of them. You can see how the poverty and injustice they encounter helps to form Guevara's character and his resolve to help South American people, but one is still a bit surprised (as the assembled crowd seems to be) at the thank-you speech he gives on his birthday at the leper colony, when he proposes a toast to a great united people of South and Latin America. Not having read the diaries, I'm not sure how much of that was Hollywood and how much was fact, but it appeared in the movie as though he'd just suddenly come up with the notion, after helping people one or two at a time.
We were both still little when Guevara was killed in Bolivia with the CIA's help, and we both have to confess to complete ignorance of the whole story and the attendant politics. This probably means that we've missed some important context.
All the same, the movie itself is worth watching, no matter what your opinions of what Guevara did in his later life. The transformative nature of the journey, with its humor and pathos, is the main theme here, and the stunning South American scenery makes a glorious backdrop for the story.
Next in the queue: We still haven't seen the second half of Kristin Lavransdatter, and it turns out we also have The King of Marvin Gardens.