well below freezing

Lately no one says "global warming."  Those who used to be enthusiasts of this theory have decided, completely at random, to call it "climate change" instead.  Weather forecasters, vying for their dramatic position among the soap operas perhaps, coin terms like "polar vortex" to make low temperatures sound like the ultimate adventure.

Basically, though, it's just cold.

So when the thermometer outside read 0 degrees this morning, naturally I mixed up some bubbles and went outside to blow.  I had seen some amazing photography of frozen bubbles, and wanted to see if I could do it, too.  {It was too windy; my bubbles floated across the road into the neighboring field.}  I had fun trying until my fingers got numb, then I took my bubble mix inside to where the children were watching me from the window, and we blew bubbles in the living room.

Spice dashed out a few times to bang the ice from the cats' water dish and re-fill it [note:  frozen plastic breaks when brought into strong contact with frozen concrete] and Sugar replaced the trash can after the garbage truck emptied it.  I took away our homemade "suet" and gave the birds the real store-bought deal, which they found within the hour.  [and friends - I'm seeing the "real" birds this winter:  titmice, juncos, red-bellied woodpeckers and downies, chickadees, even bluebirds!]

But mostly we enjoyed the sunshine from inside these old, old walls, home to crumbling insulation, mice, and ancient nutshells.  They keep out the wind, mostly, and we are grateful.

The pellet stove roars, and the younger two build complicated dwelling-places out of stools and pillows, and sisters use walkie-talkies from a room away.

And we're cozy, here, despite the drafts, extreme weather and all.