I have just been onto the balcony to try to find the Cardinal I could hear singing. It is raining ice pellets, and the icicle is melting - sounds like "Summer time and the ..."
Then I saw I had made my "mark":
and I recalled a song, a Chritmas carol, "Heat was in the very sod which the saint had printed"
and thought I would pass along some history/tradition on this dismal day.
All hope is not lost. At 3am this pair of lamps from Rock Lake, 2012, were still shining:
W O B