We're in the middle of one of the longest cold spells I can recall in the last few years. I've been spoiled by a few winters where I never had to go longer than a week without riding my horse; now it's been well over a month. Last year Cliff and I went to Olive Garden on the motorcycle, for Valentine's Day. It ain't gonna happen this year.
I used to spend two hours or more out in this kind of weather milking cows twice a day, every day; these days, I dread taking the dog out to potty when it's in the teens or below... and it doesn't take her very long to potty. I've gotten soft.
The forecast for this weekend sounds as though the weather could, once again, get nasty. Although, typical of weather-guessers, they say it could go either way. There is the possibility of freezing rain; the possibility of considerable accumulation of snow. Or not.
The good news is that I happened to glance up at the TV as they were showing the ten-day forecast and saw temperatures in the forties afar off! Dear Lord, let it be so.
We had one day last week in the forties, and that's when we got rid of most of the snow in the yard and in the pasture where Cliff and I walk. Only trouble is, most of the slopes back there are shaded; so snow thawed all that day, ran down the paths where we walk, re-froze that night, and turned to ice. You should see us trying to negotiate around, and to the side of, that mess, going down the hills.
Let's face it, we can't stay in this deep freeze forever. Somewhere in the future is a month called May. My cabin awaits, and so does my steed.