It is raining hard. Wind comes in strong gusts. Dense fog is clouding the view. And it is quite cold. If one were to guess the season only by observation, one would go for late fall. November, say. Late spring would never cross one’s mind. Neither would May, to be sure. Given all this, the calendar is only confusing. Nay, bewildering. The way the weather is changing from day to day, the dates could well be drawn out of a hat. And the next drawing is exactly at midnight.