Yesterday broke cloudy, windy and cold. The clouds blew off, but the wind stayed. Then in the early afternoon I saw really ugly low clouds roll in fast from the north. I was in the lair, and answered Magnus' call to come in just as an unearthly blast of wind shook the place. A lawn chair careened across the yard: Magnus himself staggered against it.
Then there was horizontal rain, which turned into horizontal snow. By Snacky Time it was still coming down hard and I took these pix, though it stopped shortly afterward.
This morning the sun rose in a cloudless sky, still as the grave: no breeze at all. Cold as a witch's cliche'.
Fortunately for me my landlady is due this weekend, so earlier this week I stocked up on kerosene for her heater and now the scriptorium is - well, not exactly toasty, but at least warm enough that I can feel my fingers. Winter has not yet quite left the land.
What's Donald Trump's carry piece?
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