I looked out the window on last Monday morning and there was the first junco of the season, on the lawn near the edge of the woods. The arrival of these "snowbirds" as the locals call them coincides with the first real cold fronts of the season. The junco's gray-skies-above, snow-on-the-ground two-tone plumage mimics the winter weather enjoyed or endured by those of us living in the upper two-thirds of North America.
So I guess that settles it. It's officially winter round here.
As an aside, my Grandmother Thompson swore that my first word was "junco." I was sitting in a high chair, eating Cream of Wheat, when she pointed at the bird feeder out the kitchen window at a junco. She probably said the word first and I repeated it. I'm not going to claim to have any bird identification prowess at all at the age of 18 months.
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