A metaphor?

While Werner was still in Newfoundland, the weather was perfect. I've often felt that no other summer day could possibly compare with a summer day in Newfoundland; there's something about the quality of Newfoundland summers (the salty-fresh Atlantic air? the trees? the shimmering ocean?) that makes for stunningly perfect days. Werner, packing to leave, scoffed that I had insisted he bring warm clothes, when instead we both ended up with significant sunburns (so busy were we ensuring that Jakob was protected).

He left Monday morning. The wind changed, the temperature plummeted, and the fog rolled in.

Truth be told, I do like fog a great deal. But, the drop from, oh, 27 or 28 degrees to 4 degrees was a bit more of a shock.

At least the nippers aren't biting!