Sudden Short Story 74

It's a funny thing, how laws are, but I suppose that it's funny how people are, too.  There are still lights strung up on nearly all of the houses, here, even though it's April.  Last year, most people took their lights down by Valentine's Day, but we don't actually have to until a week after the first melt of the new year. 
It used to be that most people had to take them down before MLK Day, since winter was always iffy at best around here, and the first melt was usually while the calendar was still in the single digits.  But then, of course, there was last winter, when the wind blew in from all directions, and the snow stayed.  It was nice to see the snow, but not so nice to drive through it.  Still, everyone took their lights down eventually, seeing as how it would look downright silly when the snow finally melted and there were Xmas lights up on St. Patrick's Day. 
We complained a lot at Easter.  We were all a little nervous by Memorial Day.  By the 4th of July, we were downright scared. 
Food could still be grown down south, but even there the weather was weird, being always unseasonably chilly, and windy.  States of emergency have been declared damn near everywhere, and most people are quietly abiding, since nobody knows what to do. 
We try to keep peace and order and hope, where we can.  That's why it's nice to live here:  Since the ordinance says that we get to keep our lights up until the first melt of the new year, we're keeping our lights up against the dark.  The law is still being obeyed, to the letter, which helps with peace of mind, and we also get to look at our pretty lights. 
I don't have the heart to tell my neighbors what I've figured out:  We're in the middle of Fimbulwinter, and Ragnarök is coming.