In a page-1 offering, the local paper trumpets, "Winter set/ to sound/ its last blast" and sure enough there is snow on the ground and more falling, though not with much gusto. The news story itself makes it clear how in the hell anyone could assert that this was the 'last:' "Spring" officially arrives tomorrow.
Strange how a collective fantasy -- in this case something called "winter" -- can create a collective reality. True, a lot of people, me included, may be sick to death of the troglodyte existence imposed by dark skies and cold winds and accumulating snow, but putting parameters on the weather seems egregiously self-centered and wildly inaccurate to me.
It ain't over till the fat lady sings, but chilly times are hardly marked by some closing aria.
I wonder how many other things are like that ... true because lots of people applaud but highly suspicious when examined with any care.