27 degrees this morning! That’s pretty cold by my standards. The coldest it’s ever been in our neighborhood (which is elevated and gets a touch of lake effect from the surrounding ponds and lakes) was 17 degrees F. That was a nasty winter.
Still and all, 27 is pretty nippy. The outside faucets were frozen so I had to fetch pig and chicken water from the guest bathroom (which is sort of an extension of the utility room at times).
I dread going on my walk later, although I’m going to do it, by gum, even though it means putting on “long janes,” gloves, a scarf, two sweaters, and wrapping my ears. (Incidentally there are two good things about walking and jogging in freezing weather: 1) No dogs to chase you because they’re all hiding somewhere warm, and 2) No dog poo in the soles of your shoes because it’s frozen.)
The animals don’t seem too concerned. Black pig* came flying out of his house when he heard the feed pail, same as ever, and the chooks are likewise carrying on as if the whole world isn’t slick, sparkly, and unnaturally stiff.
*Black pig no longer has a Red pig to keep him warm at night because we had to slaughter him early. (And we had to do it ourselves because all the vets and butchers were either out of the office or booked solid during the holidays.) We aren’t sure what was wrong, which made the evisceration sort of an autopsy. The upside is that he is out of his misery and we are confident that he is edible. Matt is going to do the butchering (and curing and smoking!) himself this weekend, which should make for some interesting posts.