Today for a groundhog

That day, or the morning of that day, a groundhog awoke from his slumber. The groundhog, who was the same groundhog the day before as he was on this day and would be the same groundhog the next day, decided he was hungry. There were some nuts somewhere; he knew it. He had packed some in the corner of his nest just for this particular occasion. He pawed around in circles with his furry little paws and found the nuts that he had stowed. These nuts were acorns. They were acorns then and are acorns now. The acorns would not be acorns the next day; they would be something completely different. He pinched the acorns between his pointy little claws and then chewed them with his tiny teeth. He was now, as always, and always would be, content with being a groundhog.

He figured that now would be just as good as any other time to crawl outside his home through the hole that was his entrance and his exit. A groundhog needs only one way in and one way out. The morning on the outside of the hole was a stark contrast to the morning inside the hole. The sun had now risen above the horizon and cast its morning light over and around the groundhog, creating what is called (the groundhog had no idea what it's called,) nor will the groundhog ever know it's called... a shadow. It was on this day, of course unbeknownst to the groundhog, that he caused six more weeks of cold weather.