So, determined as I was, I began walking my 40 minute walk to work.
About a third of the way there, I began to wonder if I should turn around. I hadn't realized that the snow was a wet snow. I was being pelted by sloppy snowflakes that turned into what felt like little puddles on my face. Flakes below my face and neck were quickly absorbed by my leather jacket and bluejeans. I gasped (honestly) when I realized that I was wearing a leather jacket in a sloppy snow storm. A few times, I actually had to knock a snow pile off of my head. When I finally took the hat off it was heavy with water. In a Michigan storm I would hardly ever go out without a hood to cover my hatted head nor would I wear a leather coat. To top it off, I was wearing my running shoes.
The wrists of my jacket were soaked and the gloves I wore were not long enough.
Here my jeans are soaked through and through. They are soaked from the top of my thighs to the hem. By the time I reached my destination, my shoes were squeaking wet.
On the telephone later that day, one of my Michigan friends commented that I had "been down in that weather too long and had forgotten my roots." Perhaps he's right.
A mixture of Georgia Clay and Snow