Too Cold for Comfort

Our back yard planters disguised as wintry, vanilla topped cupcakes.

 

 

Just as I was about to set foot outside this evening to attend a meeting in Martinsville, I took one look at the temperature and thought the better of it.  The reading:  3.6 degrees Fahrenheit and falling.  Tomorrow, think I’ll listen to the tape of that meeting instead.

My prospective father-in-law once described the conditions under which I showed up at his home in the darkness of a New England blizzard.  I had trudged through the snow and wind, following one of the deep ruts of a car that had dared to challenge that storm.