This thermometer is on the outhouse, so it's a pretty accurate reading. It came with the place when Tom bought it and we love the caption at the bottom "If you don't think hell freezes over, you've never been to Alaska". Looks like it's 25 below today.
If you want to go anywhere in the truck you better plug it in for at least 45 minutes to heat up the oil pan (if the cord bends enough to uncoil), then start the engine, then wait another 15 minutes before you go - oh yes, we're late already, again. And the seats are hard as rock and don't imagine it's warm inside the cab yet.
My eyelashes freeze, my eyes water and lets not even talk about runny noses!
We become good wood-stackers. It's important to pile as much wood as possible close to the fire, the last thing you want is to run out to the woodshed first thing in the morning while you're still in your jammies.
There's plenty of time to observe the subtleties of life below zero. It's very still, the birds are quiet, neighborhood dogs are curled up indoors, nobody is out whooping it up on a snow machine, the strings of prayer flags droop low, ice on the lake makes an occasional boom as it thickens, the snow is dry and squeaky making it hard to sneak up on anyone. The kettle is always on the stove and we drink gallons of peppermint tea and Bengal Spice tea, the constant steam helps to keep our skin from cracking, there's a chapstick in every pocket too. It doesn't matter if there's ice on the bedroom windows, we have great big fluffy down comforters and soft flannel sheets to snuggle up in and my favorite teddybear hot water bottle to warm up my feet. In fact, that's a good idea, let's just go to bed!