At this time of year, I find myself thinking, “Can you believe this kind of weather?” Often, it’s usually a day where it’s sunny, then it rains, then it snows, then it’s sunny for five minutes, and then it snows again. And it’s true that the weather gets chaotic every spring. But this year, the confusion was further intensified by a new, or at least new to me, weather phenomenon aptly named Graupel.
Graupels are small, soft pellets created when water droplets below 32 degrees combine with snowflakes, according to the National Severe Storm Research Institute. Grupel is brittle, disintegrates quickly, and tends to be softer than hail but harder than snow. It’s not as heavy as sleet, but it’s heavier than rain.
We’ve had a lot of rain the last few weeks. And I guess you felt the same way I do about the weather every time it rained.
It’s not a word that conjures up images of brightness or cheerfulness. Even if you don’t know the definition of a word, accept it as an answer to the question, “How are you doing?” As a matter of fact, even if I knew the definition, I would accept it. Because when someone says, “I don’t feel well,” I know exactly what that means: I don’t feel well. And the culprit is probably gravel that fell from the sky outside.
The word Grupel is very similar to the word repeated by Joseph’s brothers and the narrator in the song “Gravel, Gravel” from Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. Yes, I know they say “gravel,” and yes, I think so. would embed the “Joseph and The Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat” video at any excuse, but I think the lyrics could easily be confused with “Graupel, graupel.”
Ever since I learned this word a week ago, I’ve been singing “Graupel, Graupel, Graupel, Graupel,” alternating between tenor and soprano. in the same frantic, dramatic tone as his Donny Osmond castmates. Because I’m preparing for spring, and now it’s Grupel who is getting in the way of my seasonal dreams.
Graupel and its accompanying gray skies are contributing to the collective seasonal depression this time of year. On Easter Sunday, we donned heavy coats over crisp cotton pastel dresses and searched indoors for eggs, hoping to find all the dyed boiled eggs so the house wouldn’t stink. This is why I had to do this.
In some ways, this early spring ennui is worse than the winter blues of January and February. Because we have tasted the good life in just a few lovely days. There were days when the sun was strong and the temperature exceeded 50 degrees. When I rolled down my car window and sang along to a catchy bop that was playing on the radio. We stocked the freezer with popsicles, ordered a bunch of shorts and t-shirts for the whole family, and said stupid things like: Summer is just around the corner! ”
Then, bam. The next day, it’s raining again. It’s like tasting a fresh strawberry tart in a Parisian cafe, only to be served the next week only leftovers prepared in a Russian prison. Deprived of vitamin D, our eyes, bright and hopeful the day before, are gray and dull as the sky threatens the horizon with specks of ice and snow. We languidly scroll through the weather app on our phones, looking for one sun emoji from the entire 10-day forecast. There is nothing.
However, now that April is finally here and the temperatures are getting warmer, there will be fewer gloomy days and more pleasant weather. As I write this, birds are chirping outside and young trees and shrubs are beginning to bud. The sun’s rays stream in through the windows, illuminating every corner of the house and inviting me to sunbathe outdoors. And I may heed that call. But I do so with a degree of caution. Because I’ve lived here for a long time, and I know that for every one sunny day in spring, there are two days of extreme weather. Inevitably, within a day or two, the sky will turn gray again and some form of unwanted precipitation will fall.
Whether it’s snow, sleet, hail, or the April showers that promise to bring flowers in May, I feel very uncomfortable about it.
