Now that the cold winds start blowing from the north, it is time to put on new breeches and pick up Ovid.
His poetry is indeed for all seasons, but especially for the cold season. I know he would have agreed, especially as he lay miserable and despondent at Tomis on the freezing Black Sea coast (freezing in winter, not bad in the summer, though).
In his own words:
Snow falls, and, once fallen, no rain or sunlight melts it,
since the north wind, freezing, makes it permanent.
So another fall comes before the first has melted,
and in many parts it lingers there two years.
Nix iacet, et iactam ne sol pluuiaeque resoluant,
indurat Boreas perpetuamque facit.
Ergo ubi delicuit nondum prior, altera uenit,
et solet in multis bima manere locis;
Having put on new winter hoses, Ovid wants to experience the frozen sea for himself:
Seeing was not enough: I walked the frozen sea,
dry-shod, with the surface under my feet.
Nec uidisse sat est. Durum calcauimus aequor,
undaque non udo sub pede summa fuit. (Tristia 3.10)
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