Isn't it winter? We're past the Solstice, into the season, right? Is it my imagination, or did we used to have snow before Election Day? And now, we can't even seem to work up a good snowstorm before Thanksgiving! And then, if we have anything, it seems to melt before Christmas!

Certainly I'm not complaining about the small amounts of heating fuel used: but . . .  I do like snow. It fits well with my style. There's nothing like a snowstorm to give us a day off and a break in the frantic everyday routine. Remember? Days spent at home because the roads were clogged with snow? How peaceful, noises muffled by the white world, and another way to entertain ourselves --- shoveling, snowballs, even skiing, and sledding! Global warming, or this weather cycle thing have us tightly under its thumb.

And now, the ground is bare and brown. No dreaming of a White anything!

And my skis, sleds, toboggan --- all sit idly waiting to be used. I can still wear my slippers outside!

It ain't right!

It's supposed to be winter around here. I could go to the desert for this kind of weather, it just doesn't fit Maine. Hopefully soon, I'll be blamed for a giant snowstorm, "It's your fault, if you hadn't written that column about no snow . . . " and I'll be beaming because I'm happy if I can make it snow!

Oh, the weather outside is frightful,
But the fire is so delightful,
And just so you folks will know,
I love snow, I love snow, I love snow.

(My wife says we ought to go to Quebec before passports are mandatory. She may be right.)