"Foreboding" would be the word in S.E. Michigan just now. It's darned cold; the web page says 19(f) just now, but it's so glum and breezy it feels colder. The prophets keep insisting that we're going to get buried alive starting within a few hours. The father-in-law has pled for us to come the 20 miles to his place before it hits, to be there if his generator needs started; not a good idea for him to negotiate the basement stairs and pull on the rope at his age.