When the weather outside has yet to be frightful (and this is in no way a complaint, just a slight bit of consternation for the plants that may not recover when the real winter weather hits) one looks to false ice deities to signify the arrival of the frigid season. The Tiffany windows will have to suffice while we wait in a state of suspended disbelief. I can’t remember when it was this warm this late in the year.
Usually we get a thaw around mid-January – a brief break in the spell of freezing weather that sees fog rolling off the snow banks and gathering in strange pools of light beneath the street lamps at night. Such a thaw often messes with the mind, giving a tantalizing tease of spring, otherwise so far away.
This year there is nothing yet to thaw. I don’t know if that eases the mind, or leaves it more restless. The idea of what’s to come can be more gruesome than what is already at hand.
