The lady from the bookshop walked across the street to offer me a blanket and hot chocolate. She said I looked cold. That was probably because last Saturday was arguably the coldest May 14 on record.

And, that was the day our village held its annual Brick Street Market. I was there with a collection of prints and note cards from some of my artwork.

Halfway through setting up my tent, I realized I had left my gloves at home. My fingers were turning blue, and there was frost on my fingernails. Once things were up and running, I realized I had also left my winter coat at home.

Why did I think just a heavy shirt, a heavier sweatshirt and a bulky hoodie would be enough to keep me warm? I called home and asked my wife to bring all the warm clothes she could find. She arrived minutes later with an assortment of sweaters, parkas, mukluks and whale blubber.

Buried in a sea of winter duds and topped with a heavy quilted parka, I looked like a giant hand grenade. And still I shivered.

Traffic was surprisingly brisk, and as cold-braving art lovers walked into my tent I welcomed them in my best imitation of Eskimo, and wiped the frost off the note cards so they could get a look at them.

Most folks were dressed for the weather, but sometime in mid-afternoon a gaggle of teenage guys walked by in T-shirts. I figured they were just showing off and would be running the defroster on high on their way home.

They reminded me of the Winter Carnival held in St. Paul, Minn., every January. It’s always 20-below and several contingents of Norse-blooded college students inevitably try to outdo one another in skimpy beachwear. Shorts, tees and flip-flops were the norm. And beer of course. Lots of beer.

As the day wore on and the crowd thinned to practically none, I recalled another May 14 a mere 12 years ago. It was my great-granddaughter’s first birthday, and her mom decided to celebrate with a party at the park.

My memory may have faded, but I recall blizzard conditions. The wind howled, and as the temperature plummeted, we huddled in the park shelter around an impromptu bonfire made from whatever we could find that would burn and warmed our hands over the single candle on the cake. When the celebrant blew it out, we immediately relit it for the extra warmth.

I thanked the lady from the bookshop for the blanket and hot drink and asked her if she had any firewood.