I went out biking today with a glorious, record-breaking temperature of 72 degrees in Boston in February. I can’t deny it was wonderful, a great day for walking, biking, dogging. Here is a selfie of me out on the bike path, soaking up the wondrousness. At the same time, I had recurring visions of icepacks melting into the sea, polar bears on ice floes, and sea levels rising. And the thought: This can’t be right.
You listening, Pruitt?
MaryA
It’s the 27th of bl**dy February in BOSTON (and environs…). What I say is, where is our bl**dy SNOW? ICE? SLEET slashing your face yet never leaving a scar? WHERE IS WINTER??????
….I don’t care what the sane people think. I feel cheated. Where are the 12-feet-high sidewalk ice-mountains of yester — well, a couple of years ago? 2015, for the pedantic (sigh). Where is the DRAMA of WINTER (no, not THAT Winter! Turn off your television and join me in a sullen gripe about the wimpy winter of ’16-’17.
I think I shall hibernate until next November. You can usually count on November to come in blustering, ripping the last red and gold leaves from the trees and scattering them all over the place, a deliciously dangerous slickness for the last summer stroller (person, not baby carriage).
To paraphrase (Millay? Somebody?) O winter, winter! What is the spring to me?
On the other hand … Spring’s not nearly as annoying as summer….
Duncan
Dear Jeffrey,
If you are expecting that minion of the “shitgibbon” (to use a friend’s name for the 45th Resident of the US White House) to Pay Attention to what scientists and others are warning about, you are sadly mistaken.
[Is there are any way to put that idiot on a turntable and give him a spin at that many (45) rpms?]
From a Horrifried Canadian …