On a day, late in February, a man stopped me and asked, "How is it that you are not bothered by this cold whether?"

I looked down upon myself, out there in the below zero day to see my jacket draped over my arm. My white sweater was a lightweight knit and even my jeans were meant for summer. I asked myself too, why the cold did not bother me, but then I turned my face to the sun. I told the man, "The whether is quite nice, actually. I'm rather surprised you're not enjoying it. The sun is shining, and not a breeze runs through my hair. How is it that you are not happy with this calm, sunny whether?" He looked to me surprised, as if I had spoken utter nonsense. I though it best to explain, "The air may be cold because the sun cannot shine upon it, but only through it, but upon me the sun does shine and with that I feel it upon my skin, warming me. It is so bright, a wonder that it does not warm the ground as well. The sun's warmth stays upon me for there is no wind to take it away. So, how could this whether bother me if I am so pleased with it?"

The man looked at me one last time, pausing as if in thought. He then took off his coat, and smiled to me, before he walked away whistling a tune.