Hubby says that, in the absence of a thermometer, the best way to tell how cold it is outside is by the sound of the snow crunching and squeaking under one’s feet. The louder the scrunching noise, the further the mercury is below zero. I was just outdoors doing chores—feeding hay to the goats and horses, breaking the ice in the creek where the latter go to water—and although my ears were covered with three heavy layers, the scrunching was rather loud!
Bodie is something of a thermometer himself. Even though he’s mostly Border collie and blue heeler, both of which are heavy-coated, Bodie is one-eighth Catahoula, a southern breed which doesn’t need much hair. Bodie’s coat is Border-fluffy but Catahoula-sparse, so when it’s sub-zero, he’ll want back indoors before chores are over. This morning he only lasted a few minutes.
Frigid weather is particularly dangerous on our place. When the cat, Smokey, has been indoors too long, cabin fever triggers the arrival of one of his evil triplets, the dreaded Evil Moriarty. Hubby and I both have fresh claw and teeth marks on our person. Bodie would have had some too, had he not defended himself with growls, snarls, and gnashing teeth. Moriarty was ejected from the premises, which was his objective, but he returned after only a few seconds of minus 11°.
Hard to believe we were working in t-shirts (while the animals watched from the shade) just last week!
“Warm me, your servant, with a smile….” –PSALM 31:16