I have a very strict rule about when I start wearing my winter coat. Never, under any circumstances, will I put it on before November 1st. I don’t know when I came up with this daft rule and selected this rather arbitrary date but year in and year out, I refuse to put on my winter coat until November 1st, regardless of how cold it is.
I stubbornly persisted until November 3rd this year and only broke down because the weather guy threatened that the temperature would dip, taking the wind chill into account, to -6 degrees C (21 degrees F). When I stepped out onto my stoop this morning it didn’t seem that cold to me. I reacted with an appropriate level of bitterness – I could have squeezed one more day out of that flimsy jean jacket.
No time to switch coats though. I only had 5 minutes to clean up as much leaves and crap from our tree as possible before leaving to meet my train. You don’t want buyers to realize that leaves fall from a maple tree in the autumn do you?
About two minutes into my walk, it occurred to me that I was actually enjoying not freezing to death and besides I was finally able to wear the cute pink and orange pashmina I had bought in the summer when it was way too hot for a pashmina. Who isn’t cheered up by a pink and orange pashmina? Nobody, that’s who. It was about that time that I saw a couple of sweet little brown birds land at the edge of a bird bath that I pass by each morning. One bird stood at the edge of the bath and the other took a big leap towards the middle of the water but this morning there was no splash, it was solid ice. Guess it’s heavy coat season after all.