Yes, I look at the snow and appearance of grass and the absence or presence of ice on the trees, but the true indication of the phase of winter we are in lies in the temperature of the soda in the back vestibule. It can be quite chilly or biting or  frosty. Frosty, by the way, means you need to consider bringing it inside, which I am loathe to do because then it gets hot.

Nestled in a stack by brick wall the vestibule shares with the kitchen and across a narrow walk from another brick wall shared with the  garage, and with a door between the actual “out” outside as opposed to the vestibule outside, it is generally protected from, you know, the big KABOOM. When the temperature drops a lot, I often throw an old sleeping bag over the stack and we are fine.

But sometimes and lately would be one of them, we haven’t been careful about keeping the stack compact and truly up against the house wall . . . and we neglected to grab a sleeping bag  . . . and someone left the door to the “out” outside open . . . and we did have some explosions. In the scheme of things this year, I just sighed. (The trick is to get a broom and sweep of the frozen stuff before it melts)

Yesterday it was soooo warm and this morning when I reached out for a wake-up zing of cold Diet Coke to accompany my peanut butter foldover, I found I had in my hand a relatively warm can . . . and so now you understand my first cogent thought of the day: “needs ice”.