It was a storm for a perfect snow day. When we went to bed, it was still around 40 degrees. In the morning it was minus 3. The wind kicked up in the night, sending the last frozen slabs of snow skittering down the roof with the biggest gusts. I laid in bed, wondering what was happening to my new roof.
Richard shovelled the driveway with the big scoop instaed of running the snowplow. He needed the physical activity to stay warm. Still he had a few times when he blinked and his eye froze shut, so he had to go into the shop to warm up.
I'm reading Joseph Bruchac's The Dark Pond to Anna. I wanted to read her Dawnland, Bruchac's epic about prehistory couple with a primer on dog/human relations, but the book was culled from the Leland Library a few years ago because it was infrequently checked out. Now it seems to be out of print.
The wind died as the day went on, so I ended up going to work last night, where there were a few hardy souls to entertain. This morning the sun is out and the wind has calmed, so Richard is on the ice seeing if the fish will bite.