When I heard that this morning’s forecast was -30 with the wind chill, I dressed as warmly as I could.
- insulated boots which did me well in Antarctica
- thermal socks
- long underwear
- snow pants
- warm sweater
- down parka with hood
- ear muffs
- woolen hat
- warmest mitts possible with handwarmers inserted
Even so, 90 minutes after arriving at my home, I was still cold.
Today’s group all deserve gold stars for bravery!
Our best find was dozens of Common Goldeneye all packed closely together.
I thought you might enjoy these “back garden” photos. At first I thought the feast was pigeon, but now I’m thinking squirrel .
Thank-you to Wendy Trueman for these photos.
Well, he seemed so low that I couldn’t say no; then he says with a sort of moan:
“It’s the cursèd cold, and it’s got right hold till I’m chilled clean through to the bone.
Yet ’tain’t being dead—it’s my awful dread of the icy grave that pains;
So I want you to swear that, foul or fair, you’ll cremate my last remains.”
There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee. – Cremation of Sam McGee – Robert Service (1874 – 1958)