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And now there came both mist and snow,

And it grew wondrous cold:

And ice, mast-high, came floating by,

As green as emerald.

— Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Of course I believe in global warming. How could I not? It happens even in the meteorological riot ward I know as home, dear, cruel Newfoundland. Yes, even in Newfoundland you see it every year. It’s cold and dirty and heartbreaking in February, and yet by June, well — sometimes a little later, say July to be safe — it is actually measurably warmer. In places. Sometimes. Most years. Once every decade, for sure.

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With a few exceptions. There are parts of Placentia Bay in mid-June, when the fog is in, the wind onshore, and an iceberg in the harbour, that could freeze the nuts off a banker’s conscience. But, as we in the warming communion remind both heretics and hecklers — that’s weather, not climate, you dummies. Overall though, fairly regularly, most likely on the west coast, it warms up in the summer (as we like to call the late weeks of June and bits of July) and then tapers off for the rest of the year.