It's not the

Cold

That will do it, it's the

Wind.

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.