I live at 2400 feet. I work at 1400 feet elevation. Snow generally does not hit below 2500 feet and even rarely below 1400, at least not where I live. But last night was an exception. This is the sanctuary festooned with a powdering of icy goodness.
An ancient, decrepit chicken coop.
This was outside my door at home:
The perfect holiday tree
And one of the sanctuary denizens, Lenny, being tough and playing it cool:
I was told by wise people that my sun-loving self would adjust to an environment that is, on average, 10-15 degrees cooler than where I used to live. And I have. It was 32 for most of the day and never got past 36. If this had been the temperature in my previous location, I would have cried and froze to death.
Not that I can say I like the cold. I'm just glad my body has adjusted, because otherwise I'd be even more miserable than I am (and I'm not really, miserable that is).
My preference still is 80 F all day, every day.