I don’t like being cold. I lived in Utah, back in the Ice Age, before glibal warming. It was cold. I left almost 40 years ago and have been back maybe 5 times. I always ask if is snowing, because if it is or it might be, I’m not going.
Which brings me to the Azores in March. Soring is over in my part if the wirld, there are lots of Portuguese where I live and Portugal looks as if it has that famed Mediterrean climate….except the Azores are 9 little islands 900 miles off the coast if Portugal. It is cold and wibdy and wet. You’d think I was a cat.
Terceira ( pronounced “T’SAYduh”) is the coldest place on the planet. It rains. The wind blows. No one has a fireplace. No one. One place did have an old fashioned bread oven, which 15 loaves in warmed the house up, but I have never been so cold. It’s beautiful and green but entirely too darm cold.
Graciosa was better—wet but not so windy. We walked around the entire cobblestoned town on Palm Sunday. Carla and her mother have a yarn shop and I brought home about 50 pounds of yarn. I worn two pairs of jeans, two shirts, my nightgown,my BYU sweatshirt and heavy sicks and my heavy “sherpa” shoes. And I was cold (and fat) on the plane and in the airport.
By home I mean with me. I’m not home yet. Still in the Azores at a very swank hotel in the middle of town. I can see a herd of cows from my window.