For the first time this season, this morning's temperature is in the single digits.
THE HAWK IS UPON US
I heard that phrase when I came to see if an urban apartment dweller could live in countrified Vermont in the '70s. I'm not absolutely sure who said it first, but my good friend and neighbor, Lothar, gets the credit.
What this phrase is meant to describe is the biting cold that starts with a grab at the neck and shoulders and rides down the spine, chilling the whole body.
The image is of the hawk hunting the rabbit.
Sometimes the rabbit gets away. The weatherman is forecasting a warm up again in a day or two.
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