If you enjoy cold weather poems, here’s another.
Noses are red,
Fingers are blue.
I’m tired of winter,
How about you?
I woke Sunday morning to a balmy -9 with a wind chill of -21 degrees. At least the sun was shining when I ventured outside to shovel the driveway. I waited until it got warmer. My phone reported a whopping 3, but I am always prepared. I have an Icelandic wool coat I keep for these occasions. It is big, bulky, covers me to about mid-thigh, and it has never let me down. Wearing this cream-colored horror is an art. I have discovered less is more, and I only wear a long sleeve tee-shirt under it. I opt for sleeves because otherwise, the wooly fabric makes me itch and scratch, and I don’t want to entertain my housebound neighbors. Anything heavier than a tee-shirt, and I overheat. There is…
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