15 below zero the old thermometer read outside the kitchen window. I could feel the sting on my face when I let the dogs out. It was so cold Bud refused to go back outside after eating.
I heard the cold in the squeak of my boots on the snow. Different even from yesterday when it was five degrees warmer.
It’s as if the cold absorbs the sound quicker, clipping it short.
It changed the clank of the chain on the barnyard gate. No longer the loose vibrating rattle that makes Fate whine with anticipation, but a short dull thud.
And the handle of the water pump groaned as I struggled to lift it. As if the mechanisms that makes it swing had shrunk, squeezing everything tight.
I stayed out just long enough to feed and water everyone, giving the sheep and donkeys a bit of grain to help warm the up. I even left mucking out the barn for the afternoon.
Love the giant snow flakes of feathered ice.
Thank you, Maria.