I'm now not even expecting to hear the snowplow go by at all. Once again, it looks as though this winter's heralded, though belated, arrival will turn out to be all promise and no action. It sure feels cold today, though, and even if there's no more snow I fear that the peach blossoms remain doomed. Another summer of supermarket peaches looms.
It's time to go back to the warmish part of the house. This room is way too drafty. I feel like Mitt Romney's dog being taken on a ride.