This morning in the gloom of snow producing clouds, I put my knitted purple scarf on, decided I was cold and put a second one on. Shoving my hands into my long wool coat, I trudged down the steps opened the car and grabbed the scraper that has a brush to wipe away the snow from cars whose poor owners live through long, long New England winters.
On Route 3 just past Hamilton's pond, through the curtain of snow I saw the dark silhouette of a deer. Passing her slowly, I noticed the thick fur. It is much too cold to relinquish winter protection. Enough is enough.
Reality. No one can do anything about our weather woes. I psych myself into thinking that today is beautiful; the trees lay heavy with the first snow fall. You know, it is just not working.
I don't complain, but I think my psyche is permanently freezer burned.