Say the first word that comes to mind... (Page 3 of 66)

cranberries, for your plate looks mighty lonely with just the sodden potato.

Note the poster above the gumball machine in the last panel.

You should see their Lab Full of Exploding Things #5.

Storm?

“A Christmas frost had come at midsummer; a white December storm had whirled over June; ice glazed the ripe apples, drifts crushed the blowing roses; on hayfield and cornfield lay a frozen shroud: lanes which last night blushed full of flowers, to-day were pathless with untrodden snow; and the woods, which twelve hours since waved leafy and flagrant as groves between the tropics, now spread, waste, wild, and white as pine-forests in wintry Norway.”  – Charlotte Bronte, Jane Eyre

Whether the weather permits is a phrase you'll hear here.

They say the British are obsessed with the weather. There is a reason.

We are in a weird place geographically. In the air, the frigid wind from the north and warmer air from the Tropics collide over the UK, whilst on the surface the warm gulf stream currents meet the cold currents from the north to create the UK's highly changeable and unpredictable weather.

If you consult the world map you'll observe Britain is at a latitude where to the West, Canada is frozen solid in the winter and to the East, Denmark, Finland, Russia etc. are equally frozen stiff. Far to the south and west US cities like Boston and New York may be under snow, in Germany, Berlin is frost-bitten, yet in London, England we are in our shirtsleeves.

An island system of micro-climates, Britain endures regular if random days of summer in winter and vice versa. Often the weather is regional and I've driven from an Artic whiteout blizzard into a blissful summer landscape that looks as if it has never seen a winter. Different worlds within the space of 20 miles and 30 minutes.

Although we generally follow the seasons, our weather can flip out and change day to day. The temperature can vary 10–15 °C (18-27 °F) between one day and the next.

England in it's entirety was under a blanket of snow on June 2 1975.

'Gravenstein' and 'Dorsett Golden' apples ripen in June whilst 'Crimson Gold' apples ripen in November.

Charlotte Bronte lived on the Yorkshire Moors which hosts a tempestuous micro-climate and she probably wrote what she saw and experienced. As strange as an earthquake a volcano or a banana was to Tudor Yorkshireman, I suppose you'd have to live or have visited the area of such phenomenon in order to relate. 

If you seek truly unfeasible seasonal oddities within a work of literary fiction for your grandchildren to appreciate, I suppose the bible with the late December lambing season is the most infamous example.

Ultimate Revenge

Square

Huffam

Cheese

Cheese

Lesser

lasso