Sunday, February 14, 2016

Winter morn

Ahhh!
I didn’t want to get up. My toes told me it was too cold. My fingertips repeated what my toes said. My nose joined the discussion. My mind stayed neutral.


I put on some warm socks, a flannel shirt over my thermal pajama shirt, and topped it all with a warm robe. The temperature in the house was 58. The outdoor thermometer screamed -22. The scrawny cat shivered near a heat duct. Smart animal.


How to warm up quickly? A cuppa. A fire.

Music. Oatmeal. After I fed the cat.

Coffee warms in the winter and seems to cool in the summer. It helps the brain to kick in. It also suspends time just enough for the early sun to hit the outdoor thermometer. Only -20 after my first cup.


I start a fire in the kitchen stove. It wanted to start. The stove, the wood, the matches were cold. They work together. Within minutes, the outside temp has climbed to a -18. The inside temp is up to 60. Close to the stove, it’s 65. Ahhh!


I listen to a little prattle on NPR. It’s too early for them to get serious and do a commentary on Judge Scalia. I don't really want serious, but I don't need cute dialogue. I light up a fire on the radio as I insert a CD of pop music sung by Mexican soprano Olivia Gorra. Her passion is warmth. Mexico’s gift to this cold country. I don’t understand the Spanish, but I extract the heat anyway. 

The outside thermometer reads a toasty -10 in the sun.


My tingling toes and fingers have left me a while ago. It’s 70 near the stove, 65 near the thermostat.


I open the instant oatmeal, pop it into the microwave for 1.5 minutes; top it with a banana from my tree out back; and flavor it with Vermont maple syrup really from trees around here.

A trip to the woodshed in a minute or two and I’ll be ready for the rest of the day when the wind will die down, and it will be plus ten before sunset. They predict another night of cold, not as bad as it was last night, and then back to spring on Tuesday. We have had about a week of real winter. Last year, we had three months when it didn’t get above 30, so I count my blessings today in gallons of oil not used, mountains of warm coats hanging in wait, long johns still neatly folded in the drawer, and warmth from so many sources.
The sun peeking through the windows.

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