We Have Hit that January Cold

When I have to squint to see the mercury that reads minus-five, and ice forms on top of water buckets within an hour, and I'm instantly aware of exposed cheeks and wrists when I step outside, and only the center of rooms, away from outside walls, seem warm. I want to spend my time in front of the woodstove, watching the fire. But I find myself going outside every few hours, to retrieve wood for the fire, to haul warm water to the chickens and ram and cats, to take out the Border collies, who would rather play than watch me sit by the fire.