I haven’t had a thermometer outside of my window since I was a young boy. We had one mounted to the frame of the kitchen window, as well as a larger, dial one… somewhere in the backyard. I’m not sure why I don’t feel the need for this anymore. Perhaps the internet is to blame, or perhaps I just don’t spend as much time outside as I did when I was a young boy. Regardless, (note: I should not show such distain for these self-reflexive, pensive passages. I should embrace them, make them compelling, interesting, etc.)


Regardless, simply reading a number off a screen, or a thermometer, is really not all that helpful.

Without fail, in the dead of a northern Ontario winter, our bird feeder (located one convenient saccade away from the thermometer) was usually swarming with Chickadees, Grosbeaks, and other birds which are evidently less memorable. You could tell how freezing the blindingly white winter day was by how fluffed up and… uh… spherical the birds were.

A new one: in my current apartment, my bed is nestled up right next to the window. I have noticed that, provided a day is both sunny, and warm enough, the accumulated snow on the slanted roof will melt. Yes, seriously, snow… will melt when it’s warm!

But wait, there’s more! Rather than roll all the way over (like a sucker), I can see, on the ceiling, the rippling reflection of the sun off the accumulated water in my eaves trough.

To this day, I enjoy being able to tell how cold it is by the way the snow feels under your boots, and how it sounds. Squeakier means colder, in this situation alone. (if anyone can think of another please let me know)