I'm not very good in the rain. I don't wear a golf glove.
I like the cold.
Weather tonight: dark. Turning partly light by morning.
I don't like cold weather.
Fog is my weakness, and every time there is low fog, I am out and about with my camera.
Cold! If the thermometer had been an inch longer we'd all have frozen to death!
It got up to 94 degrees today – that's pretty good at my age.
Soon it began to drizzle for the second time that night. The drops grew heavier and became visible in the headlights of the cars. It was said by some of the police on the scene that God was crying for the girl in the garden. To others, it was only rain.
The fog comes on little cat feet. It sits looking over the harbor and city on silent haunches and then moves on.
I like to play in the low 70's. If it gets any hotter than that I'll stay in the bar!
If only the weather would improve, there'd be hope of some work, but every day brings rain.
The mist starts to form as we stand close to one another. It is a distant fog that rises from the horizon, and I find that I grow fearful as it approaches. It slowly creeps in, enveloping the world around us, fencing us in as if to prevent escape. Like a rolling cloud, it blankets everything, closing, until there is nothing left but the two of us.
. . . We love fog because it shifts old anomalies into the elements surrounding them. It gives relief from a way of seeing
I think of the cold as a noble force.
Despite the rain, it's still raining here at Old Trafford.
It is very difficult for me to breathe when it's hot and humid.
Fog everywhere. Fog up the river where it flows among green airs and meadows; fog down the river, where it rolls defiled among the tiers of shipping, and the waterside pollutions of a great (and dirty) city.... Chance people on the bridges peeping over the parapets into a nether sky of fog, with fog all round them, as if they were up in a balloon and hanging in the misty clouds.
The mist hung in the air like a prancing unicorn.
Look at that moon. Potato weather for sure.
I had an ethnic preference, if you will, for the warm weather, coming from Chennai. So I finally said, 'Look, can I move to California?' because every time I come here, it would be in the 70s or 80s, and there would be beautiful blue sky and warm.
Fog and smog should not be confused and are easily separated by color. Fog is about the color of the insides of an old split wet summer cottage mattress; smog is the color and consistency of a wet potato chip soaked in a motorman’s glove.
When rain is around, the team batting second gets a huge advantage.
If it’s zero degrees outside today and it’s supposed to be twice as cold tomorrow, how cold is it going to be?
It is so cold out there, my head nearly fell off.
I can't tell you why there's a delay, but stick your head out of the window and you'll know why.
