Today, as I sit inside watching big snowflakes sashay downward, meandering in from Canada, I thought I’d review the temperature history of my winter. Each day, I recorded the morning reading from a thermometer hanging outside my door, and also the high for every day. These I compared to the averages for the past 110 years from Weather Bureau data. I put this very-personal information into an AutoCad routine I wrote many years ago for the plotting such fascinations. I include here even the next three days, but of course they are not accurate, but taken from the forecast.
I expect everyone will enthrall with wonder at the concision with which I present my winter—the unseasonably warm November, the December Plunge, the record cold of early January, and finally a warm spell at the end—all shown as a physicist might prefer.