Tonight the snow falls. It blows. It accumulates. In my opinion, it is cold outside, 18 degrees. But if you were to ask people like WhiteStone or Wasilla Bill about this, they'd tell you that it was warm here. They're right. Compared to where they are at, it's downright balmy here. Bill would probably get all excited and want to go surfing or some such thing. Probably to avoid arguments from those who live in iceboxes, I just better avoid any discussions about our weather.
BB asked me once if we have a warm house. Yes. I have to say that we do. Tim walks around here with a thermo gun and takes temperatures compulsively. He figures out where our heat loss is, and he figures ways to solve the problem. We also have a super efficient Danish woodboiler (HS Tharm) that we actually imported maybe 7 or 8 years ago before they became widely available in the states. We have plenty of firewood, for this year, and even part of what we need for next year. I have lots of good warm wool sweaters, thanks to the 29 cent sales at the local Goodwill. So yes. We stay nice and warm in this house. No worries there. Even before chemo brought on bouts of spontaneous combustion, I never had to worry about being cold.
So it is a quiet night here. The wind howls. Cara and I had to make an emergency run to the Walmart, and the roads were miserable, but we picked our way off the hill carefully, and we climbed back up the hill after we were done, the studded tires never slipping at all. We are just about to sit down and watch Liam Neeson in 'The Other Man'. The turkey carcass from today's meal simmers in my new crock pot. Tomorrow, I will turn it in to turkey/wild rice soup. I baked rolls and cinnamon rolls today from the very best recipe, and I will make more of them tomorrow.
Every season has its blessings, and winter's blessing is in its quietness.