Victor Hugo once wrote, "Winter is on my head, but eternal spring is in my heart." Today it was easy to embrace that philosophy, because the sun shone brightly on the brown bark of the newly barren trees, and the weather hovered around fifty degrees.
On the horizon, however, lies the specter of cold. Tomorrow the temperatures are supposed to plunge, and by Friday Chicagoland may see its first snows.
So welcome, frigid weather. I'm working on that eternal spring.