“Large stores retain private forecasting services to know in advance which merchandise to feature.” A Golden Science illustration.

A 1947 hurricane photograph.

Singing “Heat Wave.”

It was a dream.

David Foster Wallace: “Tornadoes were, in our part of Central Illinois, the dimensionless point at which parallel lines met and whirled and blew up. They made no sense.”

Insert imprecations here.

“Nobody does anything about the weather, but everybody talks about it. They talk behind its back, in terms unflattering and, I’m sorry to say, even coarse.”

Warmer, colder.

It is really, really snowing.

Ice getting thicker.

A good day for Clifford Gibson’s 1929 recording “Ice and Snow Blues.”

Snow and language

Sunnier than "intervals of sun"

"Bleak am I, says the weather. Woe is me, says I."

Life in Tornado Alley

"The dirty month of February," Jane Austen called it.

What's it mean?

Spoof of Ralegh's poem