Two years ago, on October 3rd, it snowed. I remember clearly because it was so thoroughly heartbreaking. Fall had barely started and it was already over; no matter what weather came next in October or November, the onus of Chicago winter was forced upon us.
Today, on October 9, it is 73ºF. This is an unusual situation (unless you consider that Chicago weather is always unpredictable from moment to moment, in which case this is all perfectly normal) and it serves as an unsettling reminder of the grim prospect of what my biologist cousin Corrie calls "global weirding." But I can't pretend to be disappointed. 73ºF is my favorite temperature.