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Frigid-air
Feb. 11th, 2012 10:22 pm"Colder than a well-digger's ankle" was what my father used to say, but my maternal grandmother was more blunt about it: "Cold as a witch's teat." We've had much colder days here, in fact, and sometimes strings of them that lasted a week or more. But after an abnormally warm and dry winter like this one, a couple of nights of single digit temperatures really can feel extreme.
The horses and sheep don't seem bothered by it, but I sure am. I'm cold, cold, cold, even sitting eight feet from a blazing woodstove. The other end of the house is only to be visited by gritting my teeth and hurrying through it as quickly as possible. (May be as cold as the mid 50s there, I suppose, but in contrast to the area around the stove it feels like the seventh circle of Dante's Inferno. (Yes, in the famous allegory the worst part of Hell was cold misery, not fire and brimstone.)
Quite possibly this feeling is amplified by the fact that I'm alone overnight for the first time in months. It used to be a weekly occurrence for Gary to stay overnight at his mom's place in Chicago, but this is the first time he's done it since at least last spring. Changes in his class schedule made it more practical for him to go in for a day and come back out in the evening.
So... this weekend I'm on barn duty both days, plus had the usual weekly shopping to do, and a guild meeting to attend. Mind, I'm not complaining about that, it's no big deal, but with the cold temperatures it just feels like one. Tomorrow is probably going to be a day for making soup or something. This should be an ideal opportunity to shop for a Valentine's gift, but I have no inclination to leave the warmth and go out anywhere.
I think I'll sleep on the sofa tonight rather than alone in the cold bedroom. Well, not entirely alone, since our dog Red stays right with me wherever I go, but he's not snuggly. He's a welcome presence, but he doesn't get up on the bed with me the way the old two did. At least it will be warmer out here and I can easily add wood to the stove as needed.
The horses and sheep don't seem bothered by it, but I sure am. I'm cold, cold, cold, even sitting eight feet from a blazing woodstove. The other end of the house is only to be visited by gritting my teeth and hurrying through it as quickly as possible. (May be as cold as the mid 50s there, I suppose, but in contrast to the area around the stove it feels like the seventh circle of Dante's Inferno. (Yes, in the famous allegory the worst part of Hell was cold misery, not fire and brimstone.)
Quite possibly this feeling is amplified by the fact that I'm alone overnight for the first time in months. It used to be a weekly occurrence for Gary to stay overnight at his mom's place in Chicago, but this is the first time he's done it since at least last spring. Changes in his class schedule made it more practical for him to go in for a day and come back out in the evening.
So... this weekend I'm on barn duty both days, plus had the usual weekly shopping to do, and a guild meeting to attend. Mind, I'm not complaining about that, it's no big deal, but with the cold temperatures it just feels like one. Tomorrow is probably going to be a day for making soup or something. This should be an ideal opportunity to shop for a Valentine's gift, but I have no inclination to leave the warmth and go out anywhere.
I think I'll sleep on the sofa tonight rather than alone in the cold bedroom. Well, not entirely alone, since our dog Red stays right with me wherever I go, but he's not snuggly. He's a welcome presence, but he doesn't get up on the bed with me the way the old two did. At least it will be warmer out here and I can easily add wood to the stove as needed.
