Cold again. Okay, okay, not as cold as it is Fairbanks, I am sure, but cold enough for the likes of very wimpy me. I take notice when I open the kitchen addition door and feel a blast of cold air, or when in walking around in my socks, I feel the cold air swirling around my feet. I also take notice when I remove a mitten in order to undo a leadline snap or open a gate latch and my fingers immediately go numb. I tend to take this for what it is until February, for by then I grow impatient. Enough is then enough; meaning, I am then more than ready for long-term balmy temperatures. Bring it on, I then say.

This morning, after I did some writing-related work, I decided to go for a bike ride on the White Highway with Pete. My reasoning was that I should spend more time on this wonderful bicycle. I finished working on my proposal at about the same time Pete finished working on his chainsaw book, which was about noon. We did not head outdoors immediately because it was cold. Rather, we procrastinated some and ate lunch. I then took numerous photos of the outdoor gear piled on top of the water buckets on the woodstove and Pete searched high and low for a missing sock liner. I then spent time searching for the sock liner, which Pete then said he’d already found. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

The reason why we dilly dallied was because it was warm inside and seemingly cold outside. By was wearing five upper and five lower layers when finally I stepped outside. Of course, it then did not feel that cold. This was of course because of the way I was dressed and because it was the warmest part of the day.

Our bicycle ride was nothing short of remarkable. The White Highway, because it has been groomed and heavily travelled by the innumerable multi-use trail users, was what I call it, a White Highway. As I was flying along, it was not hard for me to imagine it as a Black asphalt highway, which is what it someday will become. We humans make roadways wherever We are able, this is our nature. Our having a clearly defined life expectancy may be fortuitous in that the most progressive of us are spared having to see what we imagine come to be. Joni Mitchell was right – “They paved paradise and they put up a parking lot.”

The endorphins kicked in. If the weather permits, I’ll be out there tomorrow.

Once back at home, we saddled up Tyra and Tinni and went for a ride, in part on the White Highway, in part on Siggi’s Trail, and in part on The Loop Road. Tyra took her newfound job as riding horse very seriously. For the most part she paid attention and focused on the task at hand. The problem right now is that her new saddle doesn’t fit exactly right; rather, it slips some to the right when I ride her. Pete says we’ll take care of it, and so we will.

By the time we finished the ride, brrrrr had returned. It was again nose-numbing cold. I blanketed Tinni, gave him a warm slurpy, and put him in the large pen with Hrimmi and Raudi. I then put Tyra who because she’s been bored has been picking on Tinni, in Tinni’s smaller paddock. I will swap them out tonight.

Cold notwithstanding, I am living the life most only dream of.

Next: 20. 1/20/19: Lunar Eclipse