It's silly, I suppose, to mark meterological borders let alone write about them, but this December 6th we crossed into real winter. The kind of weather that chills to the bone (twenty-something degrees with a decent wind). The kind of weather that feels like you're walking into a big refrigerator and noticing, after a few minutes, that your ears and fingers are freezing. The extended adolescence of summer and fall is now experientially over and so we head into the uplands of adventurous winter. Let us now praise famous meterological events. Let us now move about the cabin of winter knowing that each day brings us closer to spring.
Weather is the ultimate in temporal reality - here today, gone tomorrow. And so to write about it would necessarily bore anyone who reads it two days later, just as it's boring to read the jottings of temperature and wind from someone living during the 1700s except inasmuch as it shows their awareness of the earth and gives some feeling into how their mood is shaped by it. Of course the ancients were very keenly attuned to the seasons, going to elaborate extremes in marking the solstices.