The violets on the sagging back wall are blooming three months early.
Spring birds–don’t know which–are singing way too early.
And last night thick frost.
“Time to encase the house in bubble wrap” Charlie said brightly, pulling out a thirty pound roll of reflective plastic sheeting.
An hour later, all the heat from the woodstove was bouncing off the (even lower) ceiling. We’ll use half the fuel now, and our main room will look even more aluminiumish.
“Emergency chic” is the only descriptor I can think of.
Meanwhile, in the batroom the thermometer reads 54 degrees Fahrencold.
We are SUCH WIMPS