I meant to post this photograph when I was talking about the climatic conditions the other day, and just thought that I would share, for those of you who are inclined toward meteorlogical smugness:
As you can see, at some point in my life, I obtained a slightly kitschy outdoor thermometer. With birds. Not too long ago, I found it again, and had the brilliant idea of putting it up on the front porch so that I could see how warm (or cold) it was. You know, in the way that really old people obsess about the weather?
Well, it now appears that I'm getting old. It was a lovely morning all the same, if you go in for the snowbound look:
It was, however, much better appreciated from inside, preferrably with a good hot mug of tea and a roaring fire.
GHR often says that she can't imagine why the early settlers of America would have voluntarily stopped here, after experiencing both one average summer and one average winter in rapid succession, with the two-week interval which typically passes for autumn. I can only conclude that our ancestors were far hardier, and far less troubled by frostbite, than our own namby-pamby modern selves.