Sunday, 8:15 AM. –13 degrees, wind WNW, light to moderate. The sky is mostly clear but the barometer predicts snow.Everything looks frozen now, we are really in the depths of winter. Even the needles on the white pine trees look shrunken with the cold, hanging flaccid upon the branches.
The big wind chime on the Carlson’s porch was clanging away as we walked past…I wouldn’t say merrily. We met Mike walking to his Seagull Bay Motel, and Lucky wasn’t sure who or what he was, all bundled up. I should have put my long Johns on again.
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