It was cold today. Subzero overnight, low single digits for highs. We picked up another shy inch of snow, the light, fluffy stuff that resembles dandelion seed. When it’s this cold snow squeaks underfoot and offers a degree of traction even on ice. This morning I paused for a moment on the porch to fill my lungs with cold purified air and felt a rush equivalent to a double espresso.
After a hearty breakfast we skied a couple laps around the north field and a few more on the pond perimeter. We were dressed minimally but were toasty warm. There were fresh tracks of otters and muskrats, squirrels and deer. The creek froze overnight with a layer of crystalline ice. Cold.
The afternoon was spent baking bread, preparing pizza dough, filling the wood box, feeding the stove. Outside the sun was bright and a light wind swayed dormant grasses and remnant seed heads of hydrangea. Birds were heavy at the feeders. The kitchen was warm, the water pipes unfrozen, the music from the bose sweet. With daylight fading we stepped into skis again and headed out. It was cold, delightfully cold. We made an extra couple laps on the pond as evening set in. We didn’t want to quit.
The kitchen smells of fresh baked bread. Seasoned potato wedges are ready for dipping in ketchup laced with fermented peppers. Home canned green beans are simmering with fresh onion, juicy beef patties are flattened on searing cast iron. Outside it’s cold, bonafide cold. I love it so. All of it.
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