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Despite a forecast that showed not horrific January temps of mid-20s when we put our heads down on the pillow Friday night, I had a bad feeling about what Mother Nature really had in store for us that Saturday morning. Not because I had some crazy plan to be outside geocaching or whatever (that was Sunday’s plan) but because it was Winter. And I hate Winter. And it hates me and everyone else that lives where we have actual seasons, whenever they deign to show up. Also, we had plans. When simply crossing a street required three layers, it was too damn cold.

And so, Saturday morning dawned single-digit cold. And that was pretty much it. The temperature graph flat lined. Welcome to winter in the mid-Atlantic; could be balmy and 45 with a nice bit of sunshine, could be single digits and grey as far as the eye could see. It could, in fact, be both in the same day. It’s just weird here.

Being hearty survivors of many winters of this sort, Chad and I layered wisely and headed out to Pittsburgh. We’d planned to visit Phipps Conservatory & Botanic Gardens in December when the weather was closer to temperate, but the terrible sickness had overtaken Chad. This weekend was our last chance to see the Winter Light display. Weather be damned, we were going.

It’s always a joy to be in a hothouse on wicked cold days like this. It’s bright. It’s green. It’s warm with just a smidge of humidity in the air. And the decorations did not disappoint.

Once darkness settled in, we even braved the single digit, bone chilling cold to take in the outdoor garden. It was worth it, even if I could no longer feel my face.

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