At Some Point Below Zero

I love winter -- the snow and cold. But I don't like when temperatures reach a certain point below zero degrees.

I don't know what that number is. I don't keep an outdoor thermometer handy. But it is the point that the barn water pump stops working because its gears freeze. At that point, the horse waterer freezes, and I am carrying buckets of water from the house to the barn.

Horses and sheep don't seem to drink much water in the winter, until it reaches that point below zero and I'm carrying buckets of water from the house to the barn.

(I'm trying to make an ice wall. My building skills aren't great, but I'll keep trying.)

At that point below zero, Leslie, the Barn Cat, insists on coming indoors -- and Dewey, the indoor kitty, doesn't even ask to go outside.

(Dewey Kitty is resigned to spending his days by the fire.)

At that point below zero, Tag and Mickey, two of the Border collies, hold their paws up because it's painful.

I, too, don't work as well in that weather. I breathe through a face mask, hoping to warm the air some before it hits my lungs. My gloves don't seem to keep my hands warm, and the farm house never feels warm.

It's been a few winters since we've hit that point below zero. But in the past few weeks, we've hit it twice, and we're getting another arctic blast in a few days.

I haven't tired of winter yet, but maybe we haven't hit that point below zero.