This morning it's mid-January at the end of March. We must have ten inches of snow. The bare trees and bushes which were beginning to bud have burst into a heavy flowering of white.

And I am noticing a regrettable tendency on my part to use this journal for a weather log. I'm not alone. Journals are full of sun and clouds and rain. I guess when we make electronic small-talk it isn't surprising we revert to the time honored conversation filler of the weather, the old "So, is it hot enough for you?" one offers a vague acquaintance when politeness requires words but there's nothing worth saying.

Beyond the irony of using advanced technology for banality, there's the problem that whereas two people who meet on the street are living the same weather, people "meeting" on the internet are more likley to be in different time zones, continents or hemispheres. Except in the general sense that we all have some kind of weather, the state of the atmosphere isn't something we have in common.

Maybe weather entries in journals are more like those reports in personal letters. One feels a duty to write, to keep in touch, but when it comes down to it, finds nothing more to touch the recipient with than some information that could've been gleaned from The Weather Channel. Very often, in the case of old fashioned letters, the correspondents met in the same climate, at least. A family member, receiving a letter, may even have a lingering interest in meteorological matters back home. Whether those back home should really care whether the family member is being rained on, I can't say.

There really seems no excuse for weather cluttering up electronic journals. Except that if the snow brings a tree down on the lines and I lose my internet access, then the weather will matter.