It’s a gorgeous day, I thought to myself. Sunny, and new-fallen snow lying, as the song says, “deep and crisp and even”. I thought, maybe I’ll go skating today. Maybe even go for a walk through the valley. Maybe I’ll get out my skiis and ski out into the fields and just listen to winter all around me. Days like this, I thought to myself, I love winter.
I stared out the window, transfixed at the early morning fog. I was mesmerised by the stillness of everything, by the way the snow lay like the proverbial blanket over everything in our yard, the way it cushioned the steep peaks of our neighbours’ homes (and of ours as well, I presumed, though I hadn’t yet gone to look at the back yard). Then I saw it. I want you to look closely at that photograph and tell me what you see. Look very closely. There it is. There you have it.
In case you didn’t see it very clearly, I shall post a close-up for you:
That’s right. You’re reading that correctly. It’s thirty-seven degrees below zero.
O WINTER, THOU FOUL MISTRESS! THINE FROZEN HEART HATH AGAIN FOULED OUR MOST CHERISHED PLANS! WOE! WOE AND FIE, VILE ARCTIC TART! WHY MUST YOU TEMPT US SO?