This morning's video includes the forecast for the weekend and early next week.
For places from Michigan to Pennsylvania, as we all as other surrounding places, this weekend will be beautiful.
Words cannot describe the beauty of this weekend. Behold the bright disk of the eager spring sun peering through the emerald canopy of trees, the golden specks of sunlight peppering the lawn. Feel the freshness in the morning air: It adds life to our steps, inviting us to breathe deep and savor the richness of this stunning morning. And, as if to mimic the blossom world that saturates our sights, the unfurling weather pattern will be sunny all weekend. These are the days we waited for on all the bitterly cold ice-bound days of winter, when face-freezing winds ran rampant across a snowdraped winterscape with the sun just a feeble bystander an eternity away. These are the days we'll recall on those steamy August afternoons when searing waves of blistering heat simmer from the blazing streets. This is what we'll long for on some chilled October morning when a cloak of fog chokes the dawn and nullifies noon. Absent will be bird-blocking blusters of wire-whining, rafter-rattling winds. Gone will be slamming sleet or rivulets of rain. We won't have truck-trapping, bus-blocking, car-capturing snowdrifts. No, our place is in the oasis of pleasantness this weekend as we stop at summer's welcome center.
This is the kind of day that can brighten the darkest of spirits. Like a lighthouse beacon that welcomes home the sailor; this is nature's May caress. We seize the chance to greet each new turn in our path, each new vista before our gaze. We're swept away by the unbridled happiness of this glorious sundrenched day. Oh, to be sure, in the ebb and flow of our daily lives, this is but a mere drop in the ocean of worldly concerns, a tiny brook in the Amazon of life, a grain of sand on beachhead of our existence, a soft whisper in a screaming crowd, a crouton in the salad bar of daily concerns, a lonely pepperoni on the pizza of our spinning world, a crumb in the layer cake of life, a small maraschino cherry perched atop a hot fudge sundae, a truthful politician in a world of hot air and special interests, your little league rookie getting a foul tip off the meanest pitcher in the league, your golf ball bouncing off a tree deep in the woods and landing in the fairway, a tiny tinny piece of tinsel in a universe of bright lights, the wispy whisper of true love in a world with too much noise, a pensive private prayer in a time of dark despair. But as weekends go, this is a stunning gem, and we sure wouldn't want to miss it for anything.
Summer's coming... the warm and friendly time of year we longed for on all the cold and windy nights of winter... the warm and friendly time of year we thought of when dense fog choked the dawn and clouds cloaked the days... when frost covered the windshields and snow blanketed the landscape... when cold and wind were constant companions... when ice and snow surrounded us as the melancholy moon stood silent sentinel over the frozen surfaces... when barren tree limbs snapped brittly in the unforgiving blusters of winter's dim domain. Yes, summer's coming, the warm and friendly time of year. We can sense it on our skin as formerly sleeping pores open to dampen our freshly washed clothes. We can feel it as gnats play tag around our eyelids. We know it when the mosquitoes sing soprano around our earlobes.
Summer, the warm and friendly time of year: We sense it when the gas grill runs out of fuel midway between raw and rare. You know it's here when ice cream drips down your freshly washed blouse. You can sense it as the termites have a feast on your beams... as the sunlight and haze team up to make ozone soup for us to breathe.
Summer, the warm and friendly time of year: fighting with the ants at a picnic... knowing your garden is tasty enough for the most finicky rabbit... jogging on a cushiony lawn - that turns too cushiony where Fido romped and played.
Summer, the warm and friendly time of year when flies and bees are the buzzwords... when birds and bugs decorate our windshields... as weeds crowd out the flowers and cutworms prune your tomato plants.
Summer... when your wallet is compressored by the air conditioning bill, when political hot air heats up to match the temperature... when spotty thunderstorms means thunderstorms spot your location... when occasional rain means you plan an occasion - and that's when it rains.
Summer, that warm and friendly time of year: When you get into your car or truck on beautiful sunny days and suddenly fry your thighs... when a healthy walk past frogs that croak is followed by itches from poison oak... when you're sitting in traffic on a steamy afternoon and your radiator feels all bubbly!
Ah, summer... that warm and friendly time of year... it's coming at last.
Pretty sunrises and sunsets can be see all year long, but after summer thunderstorms depart and an array of cirrus clouds lingers, the effect can be memorable.
Looking ahead to <strong>next</strong> weekend, the Mothers Day Weekend, we see quite a difference between the GFS model and European models on where cold Canadian air is heading at 2 a.m. Sunday.
Rain is spreading across the Middle Atlantic states today. Dampness will linger from southern New York state to Virginia tomorrow even as the main rain area moves offshore.
For the rest of the week and this weekend, the upper-air "steering winds" will be arranged in two separate streams. The northern branch will send air from central Canada toward New England.
In the Northeast today, the low pressure area shown on this map will move to the East Coast today, pulling the front south as a cold front. Showers and gusty thunderstorm will affect areas south of the front while steady rain and gray skies are common to the north...
This map shows predicted temperatures for 2 p.m. ET today. This is about two hours before the daily high temperature is often reached. Note how close the chilly and warm air masses are to each other in the Northeast and eastern Canada.
Tomorrow is the anniversary of the birth (in 1564) and death (1616) of William Shakespeare. For this weekend, we expect no Tempest in the Hamlets of the Northeast because no Merchant of Menace will be nearby.