I don’t really know how to describe what’s coming down at the moment. It’s not snow, it’s not rain, and it’s not hail. It’s some unholy amalgamation of the three. I went out with an umbrella and it sounded like hail hitting it, but by the time I got back home it was coated in a layer of pebbly ice.
This afternoon, it’s supposed to get juuuuust warm enough to maybe add a layer of slick half-melted water to everything before it refreezes.
So… Mind your footing, and if you can avoid driving today, do so.
The word you’re looking for is sleet.
The year is 1988. A man and wife are walking through Moscow when it starts to precipitate.
“It’s sleeting” says the wife.
“No dear; it’s raining” retorts the husband.
“That is sleet if I’ve ever seen it”
"Only rain. Not cold enough for sleet.”
The couple argues in this manner back and forth while they walk. Finally they come to their destination, the communist party headquarters.
“Ivan! How are you?” Exclaims a man in a military uniform.
"Comrade Rudolf! I’d be better if this weather would clear.”
“Ah yes. Terrible rain we’re having lately.”
“See!?” Proclaims Ivan. "Rudolph the red knows rain dear.”
Go easy now, sleet shaming is frowned upon around these parts.
I’ve always thought of sleet as… wetter. Like, rain with ice and snow mixed in.
This is something more like ice pellets that are just barely wet and fluffy enough to stick to everything then freeze rock hard.
I guess that qualifies as sleet, but it feels wrong somehow.
Perfect.
