It was a pleasant afternoon today; shirt-sleeve weather. I went out with a few sticks of firewood, to have a nice, pleasant fire in the deck’s firepit.
But… Within a few minutes, I’d zipped up my heavy sweatshirt, the one that my wonderful wife got me last Christmas from Duluth Trading. I kept looking up from the fire and my musings to remind myself not to take for granted this wonderful place in which we live. The clouds were rolling in over the mountains, and the temperature of the air was beginning a precipitous drop.
Hat on, to help keep warm… More wood on the fire, but last spring’s culls weren’t proving very productive in making heat.
I’d intended to sit the sunset, but the chill of impending snow was beginning to assault me: the ice-cream headache of the cold in my face, and from both ankles to my knees, I could feel the icy knife-edge of the cold, assaulting my very bones. I could feel the cold air coming off the mountain, an irresistible force.
My bones began to ache.
Even the fire could not stand up to the cold; it was beaten back to a guttering shadow of what it should have been.
I gave in to the reality of the weather and came inside to the sunroom, just in time to see the sun bidding farewell for what might be a few days.
It’s gonna snow. I can feel it; I can sense it, I can smell it.
My wife has learned that I have a sixth sense about mechanical things, and she trusts me. Last week, I took my four-by truck down to our mechanic to be serviced, and just today it’s back.
The chill is falling hard upon the mountain, and it’s gonna snow. Oh yes, I can feel it in my bones, my hands; and especially my legs…
I keep my heavy sweatshirt on, remembering what I’ve learned in the past, and is still good knowledge: warm the core, first.
If you ever get this cold, please remember this too: warm your core first.
And may God keep us all in awe of his amazing creation.