It is a way to treat this burst of Arctic air in context: our piercingly frigid air (a high of 4F today, or -16C) is a wee nothing compared to what passed through this way years ago. (And is passing through right now places like North Dakota, and will pass through here next weekend.)
So take it easy: it's winter, it's cold, but it's been worse and it is worse elsewhere and it will be worse here again. Put it in context! (A message I would like to wave as a banner to life in general.)
Still, when I step out this morning and we're way below zero and my wet hair (straight out of the shower) freezes instantly so that I am bedecked with icicles hanging from my scalp, I'm thinking -- damn, it's cold!
But sunny. And Everything looks better in the glorious sunshine.
(Our old barn where the chickens hang out is rather drafty and even a scant snowfall creates killer icicles, but the cheepers find corners where they feel safe and protected.)
(When I come in, Apple is about to lay an egg. She is distracted by my presence.)
(Cold, but beautiful.)
Breakfast, that old reliable rerun here, is a bit different today. There is the pre-breakfast with Ed, only it's not with Ed because the phone rings just as I am to call him down and so it's just me and the fruit and the flowers...
And then there is the big breakfast, which actually isn't that big, food-wise, but is grand people-wise, because it is with my friends from afar (and one of their daughters). They're in town and we spend a good long time catching up.
At home again. Christmas came and went. All the work, all the preparation, anticipation, excitement. All the music, joy, family time -- it came and went. I'm that kid who likes to take down the tree the day after and move on to the next adventure. But this year, it's different. I need to keep it going for a while longer, just because it all seems so eerily long ago. I need the reminder. The toy drum, the tree...
Meanwhile in Melbourne we’ve been hanging out by the air conditioner, reading, lazing, listening to the cricket - and waiting till dusk to walk on days that get to 34 or 35C. There’s the odd mosquito in the dusk, but nothing like your summer visitors. I can only find a patch or two of Day lilies in nearby gardens though (I love #otherpeoplesgardenson Instagram - to which I became addicted before Facebook took it over unfortunately). Jean
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