As temperatures temporarily tumble (nice alliteration there, sport) into true wintry realms here in the Texas Hill Country, and I mutter geriatrically and draw my muffler closer, let me remember where I misspent so many years of my childhood and youth: in the heartland of the Alps, in the suburbs of the noble city of Geneva, which sometimes, in December or January, wakes up clothed in ice, as in the photo above. A perfect excuse for a chocolat chaud followed by a vin chaud. Ah, jeunesse. Adieu.