The Good, Cold Life

It has been b*ll busting *ss freezing cold here. Not Minnesota cold, true, but then I don't have Minnesota clothes for it either. And our house doesn't have Minnesota stoves. Although I'm thinking I should dream of stoves instead of beach vacations.

And still, yesterday morning as I finished milking in the 8 degree (at most) temps, I couldn't help but marvel at the clear sky, the sun hitting the animals turned solar collectors (they turn themselves as to get the most sun exposure on these cold mornings), the mountains rising away, the frost on the closely cropped pasture, the crows sitting in the bare trees.

Today's low is yesterday's high, but it is supposed to be real cold (high in the 20s) again on the weekend I think. What I always think by mid-January is that it can't be too cold for too long now. The sun is on its way back. I'll be sunbathing in March.

Husband is deep into the seed catalogs and websites, deep into calculating and figuring and scheming and planning. Coles, brassicas and the like. He's out this morning gathering wood -- dead fall dried stuff to make this oak burn faster, hotter.

Our oldest dog died during the coldest night. A peaceful death, curled in her dog house. I will miss her. She was a good dog. I remember not having a dog and how much I wanted one before we got her. I was pregnant with second child. When I was pregnant with third child I bred her for puppies that I sold and that money bought most of the van we had for so long. Well, it was a good decade we shared together and I am glad she shared it with us.