I walked the dog today wearing lounge pants, a long-sleeved t-shirt, a sweatshirt, a polar-fleeced lined jacket, gloves, and a knit hat. I think it was fifty-five degrees. It's hard to even imagine myself living somewhere that the temperature regularly falls into the thirties or below. We get a few days a year where we skim into the thirties, but it's as likely to be in the seventies as the forties all winter long. Possibly even the humid eighties--blech!
I'm perfectly content with my little basket of pretend snowballs. I don't need the real thing.