Br-r-r-r-r
I think our thermometer is stuck on six above zero. That is what it reads every clear, cold morning.

Don't get me wrong--I much prefer this weather to rain and slush. It can actually be comfortable in the midafternoon when it warms up into the teens. If the wind isn't blowing. If the wind is blowing, outdoor activities quickly become No Fun At All. I coined the phrase "FTS (as in "F* This Shit") Cold" this week to describe the effect of a twenty-knot breeze on outside chores when the temperatures are in the single digits.

I especially pity the outdoor creatures. The chickadees and nuthatches have been enjoying the ham fat we hung outside for them and I keep the seed feeders stocked. Yesterday morning, there was a pheasant on our deck, eating sounflower seeds that were scattered on the snow. I made sure to put more out for him.

I haven't seen any tracks from the black-and-white stray since just after the snow fell. The wind has hardened a crust on the snow, so unless I were to look closely, I might not see his tracks if he is still coming by for food and water. I hope he has hunkered down somewhere warm.

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