Lea Hartl

As my colleague Powder Orakel delivers new updates practically every day in the wonderfully productive pre-Christmas period, I would like to take this opportunity to look at the somewhat more timeless nature of snow.

The precipitation maps are becoming increasingly colorful and our colleague the oracle is living up to his name with meaningful hints. Word has got around that something interesting is about to be fabricated in the weather kitchen. So why all the excitement?

It's been hard to believe recently, but the classic westerly weather pattern is one of the most common large-scale weather patterns in Europe. The current, long-awaited snowfall clearly shows why westerly weather is so important for winter in the Alps: reasonably widespread precipitation – and not too little of it.

In Austria and Switzerland, this year's November will go down in history as the November with the least precipitation since measurements began. Temperatures were well above average at higher altitudes, but a little too cold for the time of year in the high fog basins.

It is currently becoming clear how little sense the idea of "good" and "bad" weather makes. If you have too much of one, it soon becomes the other. The extremely dry November is increasing the risk of forest fires, particulate matter concentrations in the basins are reaching record levels and, unsurprisingly, almost all ski resorts without glaciers are postponing their openings. Some weather stations in the Alps will probably end November with 0.0 mm of precipitation.

In short: we were, are and will remain under the influence of a persistent high. The sun is shining in the mountains, while the lowlands are often covered in fog or high mist.

The tropics are known to be the regions of the world where you can lie on white sandy beaches all year round and retreat to the shade of palm trees when the heat is on its way. If you need more specific information for your GPS, you can find them between the Tropic of Cancer and the Tropic of Capricorn. Occasionally, however, it can get pretty uncomfortable in the tropics, depending on the area, a hurricane, typhoon or a simple tropical storm can ruin your beach vacation. If you don't care about that sort of thing and prefer a down-to-earth drizzle, you can go swimming in the Mediterranean with peace of mind.

It's getting dark quite early again, columns of cars are rolling up the valleys, the season ticket sales are over in many places, sports stores are advertising the latest developments in carving, Facebook contacts are posting smileys and snowflakes – the evidence points to the approach of winter. The WeatherBlog has spent the summer break watching TV and knows that on CSI, at least 2 perpetrators are convicted every week with circumstantial evidence. So it's high time to get to work and track down winter.

At least I haven't missed too much skiing in the last few weeks. The snow is disappearing into the highest mountains, only the lifts are still running on the glaciers and even those will soon be closed – others may be annoyed, but when you're sitting at home waiting for broken bones to grow back together, the miserable snow conditions are a small, albeit uncooperative, consolation.

At least I haven't missed too much skiing in the last few weeks. The snow is disappearing into the highest mountains, only the lifts are still running on the glaciers and even those will soon be closed – others may be annoyed, but when you're sitting at home waiting for broken bones to grow back together, the miserable snow conditions are a small, albeit uncooperative, consolation.

Glaciology is a specialty of meteorology. Glaciologists go to "their" glaciers twice a year and dig holes in order to later determine the mass balance. To do this, they need helpers, usually students, who lend a hand with digging and carrying various pieces of equipment.

A summer day in the meteorological sense is a day on which the maximum daily temperature is 25°C or more. Last Sunday, April 3, was a summer day in Innsbruck with over 26°C. You can literally watch the snow melt, – the summer air licks the white off the mountains.