It's the word that describes perfectly the frigid night air that is so crystal clear it could slice the tip of your nose, the kind of temperature in which your eyes go on overtime to keep them watered to prevent them from freezing up in their sockets, that wicked little chill that turns your digits into icicles even when wearing thermal lined gloves.
This happened fast. Just last evening it was delightfully pleasant out there. Is this what they call a snap?
The thermometer on my porch read 20 degrees. Aside from the horse water which is heated, all other water buckets are already frozen, and I don't mean just a layer of thin ice, I mean break the ice and bring them all into the garage to thaw out so I can refill them in the morning. It's so cold already at 8:30pm that scooping horse poop was more like scooping poop cubes, scraping across what felt like concrete rather than loose dirt.
The time has come to pull out the official cold weather wear. Liners under jeans are laughed at by that below 32 wizard. It's time to get serious and face these coldiculous nights like a true super shero.
A flight to Hawaii anyone?
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