Skylar loveseats

When there's a storm in the offing, my feelings of assurance in the forecast are proportional to the amount of hype: the more dire the warnings—REMEMBER THE DONNER PARTY!—the less I'm likely to be a true believer. The approach of Winter Storm Skylar was not without a large measure of ominousness, but, in fairness to the prognosticators, there was a fair degree of uncertainty on their part, with much of the fear pointing north and east of our neighborhood. Still, there was that B word in the reporting—bombogenesis—and there was the likelihood that as Skylar "bombed out," it would carry more-than-gale-force winds and three-inches-of-snow per hour along the coast. As it turned out, this prediction would not pan out for our coast—Boston and the Cape certainly got walloped—but the storm delivered a good six inches of surprisingly dry powder, even though the temperature never dipped below 30, and a very pretty experience, made all the prettier because the lights stayed on.

Skylar feeder