You know it's cold when...

[Datajack Franit]

I know it's cold when I touch my nose and I feel it's frozen

[Ozz]

You can hear the tree trunks cracking open cause of the
sap freezing.

[orange]

...even the Sororstitutes are wearing pants and long sleeved shirts

[OneFootInTheGrave]

You see your beard turn white... oh that could be watching the eastenders too

[Sten Sture]

Originally posted by Japher
...you can see your breath.

It's a bitter 61ºF over here in the east bay. We all have to stand around the burning cars to stay warm.

[Provost Harrison]

Originally posted by Clear Skies
Not entirely physics-ally accurate, but still amusing.

50 degrees
Londoners turn on their heating. People in Newcastle plant their gardens.

40 degrees
Londoners shiver uncontrollably. People in Newcastle sunbathe.

35 degrees
Londoners' cars will not start. People in Newcastle drive with their
windows down.

20 degrees
Londoners wear coats, gloves and wool hats. People in Newcastle throw on a T-shirt (girls wear mini-skirts).

15 degrees
Londoners begin to leave. People in Newcastle go swimming in the North
Sea.

ZERO degrees
Londoners emigrate en masse. People in Newcastle have the last barbecue before it gets cold.

MINUS 10 degrees
Londoners cease to exist. People in Newcastle throw on a light jacket.

MINUS 80 degrees
Polar bears wonder if it is worth it. Boy scouts in Newcastle start
wearing long trousers.

MINUS 100 degrees
Santa Claus abandons the North Pole. People in Newcastle put on their
long johns.

MINUS 173 degrees
Alcohol freezes. Riots in Newcastle because the pubs are shut.

MINUS 297 degrees
Microbial life starts to disappear. The cows on Newcastle Town Moor
complain about vets with cold hands.

MINUS 460 degrees
All molecular motion stops. People in Newcastle start to stamp their feet and blow on their hands.

MINUS 500 degrees
Hell freezes over. Sunderland qualify for the European Cup.

[self biased]

for those of use with facial hair, you come in from the cold with icicles adorning your beard.

[KrazyHorse]

As per Robert Service, when the tears in your eyelashes freeze. Anything before that is just unpleasant. After that it starts to get bad.

There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.

Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows.
Why he left his home in the south to roam round the Pole God only knows.
He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell;
Through he'd often say in his homely way that he'd "sooner live in hell."

On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way over the Dawson trail.
Talk of your cold! through the parka's fold it stabbed like a driven nail.
If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes froze, till sometimes we couldn't see;
It wasn't much fun, but the only one to whimper was Sam McGee.

And that very night as we lay packed tight in our robes beneath the snow,
And the dogs were fed, and the stars o'erhead were dancing heel and toe,
He turned to me, and, "Cap," say he, "I'll cash in this trip, I guess;
And if I do, I'm asking that you won't refuse my last request."

Well, he seemed so low that I couldn't say no; then he says with a sort of moan:
"It's the cursed cold, and it's got right hold till I'm chilled clean through to the bone.
Yet 'taint being dead, it's my awful dread of the icy grave that pains;
So I want you to swear that, foul or fair, you'll cremate my last remains."

A pal's last need is a thing to heed, so I swore I would not fail;
And we started on the streak of dawn, but God! he looked ghastly pale.
He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day of his home in Tennessee;
And before nightfall a corpse was all that was left of Sam McGee.

There wasn't a breath in that land of death, and I hurried, horror driven,
With a corpse half-hid that I couldn't get rid, because of a promise given;
It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say: "You may tax your brawn and brains,
But you promised true, and it's up to you to cremate those last remains."

Now a promise made is a debt unpaid, and the trail has its own stern code.
In the days to come, though my lips were dumb, in my heart how I cursed that load.
In the long, long night, by the lone firelight, while huskies, round in a ring,
Howled out their woes to the homeless snows -- O God! how I loathed the thing.

And every day that quiet clay seemed to heavy and heavier grow;
And on I went, though the dogs were spent and the grub was getting low;
The trail was bad, and I felt half mad, but I swore I would not give in;
And I'd often sing to the hateful thing, and it hearkened with a grin.

Till I came to the marge of Lake LeBarge, and a derelict there lay;
It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice it was called the "Alice May."
And I looked at it, and I thought a bit, and I looked at my frozen chum:
Then, "Here," said I, with a sudden cry, "is my cre-ma-tor-eum."

Some planks I tore from the cabin floor, and I lit the boiler fire;
Some coal I found that was lying around, and I heaped the fuel higher;
The flames just soared, and the furnace roared -- such a blaze you seldom see;
And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal, and I stuffed in Sam McGee.

Then I made a hike, for I didn't like to hear him sizzle so;
And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled, and the wind began to blow.
It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks, and I don't know why;
And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak went streaking down the sky.

I do not know how long in the snow I wrestled with grisly fear;
But the stars came out and they danced about ere again I ventured near;
I was sick with dread, but I bravely said: "I'll just take a peep inside.
I guess he's cooked, and it's time I looked," ... then the door I opened wide.

And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar;
And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and he said: "Please close that door.
It's fine in here, but I greatly fear you'll let in the cold and storm --
Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it's the first time I've been warm."

There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.

[cavebear]

30 F - My cat Skeeter comes inside shivering.

10 F - My cat LC comes inside shivering.

(If those aren't "inside" jokes in more ways than one, I don't know what are)

You find the snowmen wearing catalytic heaters.

The mercury in the thermometer is whimpering.

Scrat is still in a glacier.

There are reindeer in the backyard.

The charcoal is too cold to light in the grill.

The oak tree has moved its branches over the chimney.

A starving polar bear is chasing a terrified seal and they are both walking slowly.

Satan appears, beard and horns icicled, and says "Let me guess, you got laid..."

[MattyBoy]

It was 113F on the weekend here.
Luckily we were at the beach.

[klesh]

Temp in my area right now: 6ºF with a windchill of -26ºF. I believe it hasnt been above freezing in something like 15 days now. Brrr.

-FMK.

[Kramerman]

They say in Texas, "If you dont like the weather... just wait a minute." This past weekend it got down to around 30F. Next week it'll probably be in the 80s.

[Case]

Around here at the moment, you know it's getting cold when fire fighters stop worrying about the bush spontaneously combusting