Punxsutawney Phil Predictions

About a week ago, beloved rodent-weatherman Punxsutawney Phil failed to find his shadow as he emerged from his cozy den in the middle of nowhere in Pennsylvania, purportedly portending an early spring. I, along with every other resident of the northeast, rejoiced. Apparently, this was a rather rare event; since entering the capricious predicament of attempting to predict the onset of warm temperatures, back in 1887, the little groundhog has called for an early spring only sixteen times. Mostly, the shadow stares him down, lurid and daunting, until he flees into the solace of his tiny hovel. 

Ironically, and fittingly, given the hilariously heated debates that ensue after each forecast, a few days later much of the east coast was slammed with a snow storm. Named Nemo, for reasons not entirely clear, other than the novelty of infusing weather elements with personified forces, to better hyperbolize and create unnecessary sensations. So, as of late, I have relied on intense layering, to protect from the mostly bitter temperatures, the gray skies, and the tempestuous winds. This wool sweater, with its warm shawl collar, has become a recent staple, never mind that it almost feels out of place so far from the wilderness or rustic cabins or rugged mountain trails. Snug, but still a bit loose, it is wonderful to throw on top of pretty much anything; lately, it has been a bunch of cowl or turtle necks.

With an array of neutrals, cream, taupe, gray, olive, and black, as well as a vibrant orange, this sweater pairs easily with many of my winter basics, namely my black leggings and all of my warm, tall boots. Although it was bordering on excessive borrowing from the L.L. Bean aesthetic, I could not resist throwing on a chambray blouse; maybe there is an outdoorsy girl stowed away deep within me after all. As I write, the filmmaker is graciously digging my car out from under Nemo's fury; so maybe not.