As Salinger said, poets always take the weather so personally. Well, bar some formally defective haikus composed during my restless high school years, I am no poet, yet I did often have a tendency to, well, let's be frank here, bitch and moan about the weather. I like to think that a positive sign of my getting wiser (and older) is that I have befriended the weather. Even the unfashionably sudden, in your face kind of minus ten on a Wednesday morning. Because when it compensates for itself with lovely sunrises, you can't really hold a grudge against a morning freeze.
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