For those in the temperate, Gulf Stream region, let me just point out that these are not warm, damp drops of water on my tree. No. These are chunks of ice.
Driving around this morning, running some errands, I could see the trees and the long grasses in the park had been delicately frosted, and by the time I got home at midday, my trees were joining in the fun. Very pictureskew, but cold, cold, cold.
(The mailman met me in the driveway and said, “Some weather. Goes right through you,” which made me think he might have a Scottish grandmother lurking in the background somewhere. It sounds like the kind of thing we say.)