It’s been snowing all day in New York. And real snow this time: not all that business the meteorologists kept on about in the past few weeks. ‘Get ready, folks: It’s gonna be a white Thanksgiving. Isn’t that right, Chuck?’ or ‘It’s gonna be a c-o-o-o-o-l-d one, Bill. Probably going to see some snow, even. Now on over to Marty for traffic.’ or ‘It’s going to snow tomorrow, I swear to all that is holy. Release me, Zabriath, Keeper of the Dawn!’

Nope, this time it was for real. Real snow, and lots of it. Practically a blizzard, if you ask me.

Which is why I found it particularly strange when, on my way to work this morning, I saw a tavern with fake snow – that kind you spray on – decorating its windows.

Because, really, when you’re surrounded by the stuff, when it’s hitting you in the face, soaking your shoes, just getting all over you (all of these things I kind of enjoy, by the way), you don’t need to be reminded of its existence. Your awareness of snow, it could be said, is pretty much at an all-time high. Fake snow in windows is only the kind of thing that should be done where it doesn’t really snow.

Like, Florida.