F. and I spent the night in Skaneateles, NY (pronounced skinny-atlas) over the weekend. A few feet of snow on the ground — they don’t even bother shoveling sidewalks there, they just sort of pound the snow flat — and temperatures down into the single digits at night, it’s an old-fashioned winter up there.
Now these are icicles:
Some were as tall as me, many went from roof-edge to the ground.
Not just here at the fire station, but all over town. The lake was frozen over, too. We drove over to Cayuga Lake a little while after this, and saw people ice fishing.