I woke up to temps hovering at 1 degrees F (that’s -22C for my Canadian/European readers).
That’s cold. Darn cold.
It’s the kind of cold that used to garner us kids a phone call from Elliott the bus driver: “Back to bed, kids, the bus won’t start!” We kids would squeal and race back to our covers; Mom would pull her house coat tighter and start a new pot of coffee.
It’s the kind of cold that freezes your nostrils together long before you make it to the barn.
It’s the kind of cold that makes every single effort that much more challenging: simply leaving the house takes longer b/c the car must be warmed up first.
It’s the kind of cold that demands I pack my lunch for no one is venturing out in this later on.
It’s the kind of cold that makes me long for someone to cancel my day so I could instead snuggle in and read, sip coffee and look out instead of in.
Baby, it’s cold outside.
It’s that kind of cold.