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Archive for February 16th, 2015

Bring It On

How many ways can I describe the weather outside? Let me try. Freezing, icy, snowing, wintery, frosty, frigid, gelid, inhospitable, and glacial. That about sums it up with a temperature that feels like -20 F / -28 C. Nothing is even thinking of melting.

My favorite pine tree is literally groaning from the cold. I have never heard a pine tree groan until this winter, but that’s how cold it is.

Yarn Rascal can’t go out without his boots, otherwise his feet hurt so bad he just falls where he’s standing. With his boots on, he walks like a cross between a penguin and a bucking horse. His front feet move like a penguin’s, while his back feet buck out like a horse trying to shake off a rider. Not conducive to quickly managing business and scooting back indoors.

Yesterday I had a brief moment smugness. Congratulating myself on having had the foresight of getting everything we could possible need this winter out of the barn and putting it within a fingertip reach. No long treks through hip deep frozen snow this year. I should know better by now. The universe doesn’t like conceitedness.

The Skipper’s truck had a wee bit of a challenge getting started yesterday. To be more precise, I turned the key and nothing happened. Silence. Not even a cough. I took the key out, gazed at the vast frozen tundra of blinding white that lay between me sitting in the truck and the barn where the battery charger resided. When reality, in its initial phase, egregiously deviates from what I want it to be, I have a hard time immediately accepting it. Thus, I reinserted the key in the ignition throwing all my strength behind turning that baby as far as it could go while ramming the gas pedal to the floor saying, “Come on, come on, come on.” Not a sound beyond my own voice and the wind slamming into the vehicle.

I removed the key. Within seconds a gasoline smell seeped into the truck. Not only was the battery dead, but I had flooded the carburetor. I banged my forehead on the steering wheel, saying, “No, no, no.” Not another winter where I have to trudge 98 steps up to the barn in snow above my knees and a biting wind that belongs only in the Arctic region. And, in a strange way, I was right about this. From the truck to the barn was 125 steps. Last year’s 98 was from the kitchen door to the barn.

When I reached the barn, the door which normally lifts so easily was frozen to the ground. A blast of wind slammed stinging little snowflakes into my face and I turned, whereupon I saw my trusty ice breaker standing 98 steps away outside the kitchen door. To get that ice breaker meant a round trip total of 196 steps. At least 100 steps too far.

So I did what any formerly sane, now desperate person would do. I kicked the heck out of that door while trying to lift it at the same time. I pounded on it with my fists, I beat it with a plastic chair from last summer—do you know that plastic, when it gets below a certain temperature, becomes brittle? but I digress—all to no avail. That door was stuck to that ground better than if I had used Gorilla Glue on it.

For now, the battery charger remains in the barn. But they are predicting more snow during which (oh yes!) the temperature will briefly rise. I plan to use this brief rise to my advantage. With ice breaker in hand I will enthusiastically stumble the 98 steps to the barn where I will get that door open and retrieve the battery charger. Bring on the next storm!

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