A little nip in the air

(nip has special meaning in my family: my ex-husband's brother (my second-cousin once-removed) is named Nip, and my father named his last dachshund Nip).

It was -15 this morning. I worry about the dogs when it's this cold, sometimes they seem to have no sense. At -5 last night Tess was staying out way too long. I guess she was just eating sunflower seeds at the feeder, but sometimes she gets far from the house and decides her pawpads are too cold to make it home. I shouldn't worry, a dog is a dog and can figure out how to get home. She won't let herself freeze to death.

Anyway, I was pleased with my house's survival skills this morning. No ill effects from the cold, although this is not really extreme. -20 counts as extreme, that's when you worry about pipes freezing. After 15 years of living in this house I have figured out how to keep the cellar warm enough to keep pump and pipes from freezing, and at last I've smartened up enough to have a storm door, so the living room temp was 58 instead of 48 this morning. Boy, the rewards of growing old can be great.

Bare skin gets cold quickly at -15, though. I had to refill the suet feeder, and I grabbed some firewood on my way in the house (another lesson learned: never go in the house without taking in a load of firewood). Hard on the hands. Also, remember the stupid lesson of childhood about wet hands sticking to metal? Still true. Snow on the firewood, wet hand, metal doorknob. Ouch!

After 22 years here I have finally learned the actual value of snow tires. My car is like a different vehicle now. I zoomed right up my driveway last night, through 6" of snow, including a thick crust. Never would have made it without Hakapalita snows. Worth $500? It sure was to me last night. In the long run? Anybody's guess.

On the book/tape I'm listening to now (Memory keeper's daughter) the author describes a character as having sadness and compassion in his eyes. Jackson Browne sings of "a trace of sorrow in your eyes." I've always wondered about these things. I don't think I can see these, or joy, or cruelty in the eyes of another. Do I try to read people through their eyes? No, I don't really think I do. Eyebrows, yes. Mouth, yes. But eyes? No, not really. I can read things in nature easily. Bird behavior, squirrel behavior, porcupine behavior, deer behavior and certainly dog behavior (in many, many ways). Humans? Not so much. What does this mean about me? Sometimes I think I was meant to live by myself and limit my interactions with other people because maybe, really, I'm just not that good at it.

But cataloging Beethoven's late string quartets by the Takas Quartet, now there's something I'm quite good at.