From this, taken during my walk after arriving home from Karen's yesterday evening ...
to this, taken from the back step just now:
Not that I'm complaining: I'm warm and dry and that's good enough for me.
Scott's probably not. He went out around 8 to do something with cattle — move them? Whatever it is, it won't be a pleasant job in this weather.
Virginia Woolf could at least go to the movies:
I think I shall indulge in a picture palace—but why? I shall certainly come out saying to myself, “Nothing will induce me ever to go to a picture palace again.”
Then again, sometimes she spent a quiet day in:
I began today to treat my corn. It had to be done for a week.