It's not the
That will do it, it's the
Last night, the BRW (Beautiful Redheaded Wife) and I, went to a "Gardening in Containers" class. We went because I'm a City Kid – with caps. Hey! I've never lived lower than the eight floor, and couldn't identify a tree unless I looked down upon the leaves. Turn a leaf upside-down, and I hadn't a clue what I was looking at.
The class was held in Wells, Maine: 30 miles south, starting at 6:30 PM lasting until 8:30. Sixty miles round-trip; not too shabby, and the weather was holding at 40 degrees F (4.444444444444445 C. Ah, the weatherman, so precise and often so inaccurate).
So donning our heavy (and I mean heavy) jackets, cinching on the chaps and sliding on the winter gloves, we zoomed away. Okay, with two-up on the Elite, it wasn't quite a ZOOM, but, you get the idea.
The class was informative: got to ask questions like "Does the container need to have holes?" and "How do you know when a cucumber is ripe?": heavy stuff like that.
Then..... the ride home. The Sun was long gone, and the wind decided it wanted to ride with us – or rather, against us. It was one miserable ride home.
So, to paraphrase: It's not the cold, stupid. It's the wind.