It’s been in the single and negative digits here for days, as it has been for many states across the Mid West and North East. Too cold for man or beast to dally outside.
When Kiera was here, she’d have pointed out that I wasn’t a man and she wasn’t a beast–and she would have insisted that we go walking.
She’d have looked at the thermometer, noted its mercury nose-dive with a nod, as if to say, “You gonna let a little thing like that scare you?” And I’d have laughed and put both of us in our “snow suits and boots.” And we’d have at least made it down to the horse farm, if not all the way down to the end of the road.
We both always felt much better after taking in a little fresh air.
But Graidy and Wink…? They’d completely agree with the “better inside for beasts” motto; they don’t have the same constitution for the cold. Even trying to convince them that it’s in their own best interest to go out to relieve themselves takes some doing.
If you asked them, “How cold is it?” They’d tell you, “Hell has officially frozen over!”
How cold is it where you are?