Feed the birds

Is it very, very cold outside. It’s one of those days where I alternately curse my ancestors for having chosen these most inhospitable climes to call home and being grateful that I live in a civilization with indoor heating and self-contained transportation vehicles. It is so cold that the hot water pipe to the kitchen sink froze (in the last leg of its journey to the tap it travels alongside the ductwork from the dryer to the backyard, whereas its companion cold-water pipe is farther away), necessitating the actual activation of the thermostat in the basement, and it has just thawed out, so that I can put the dishwasher on.

The birds are emptying the feeder at an astounding rate, and there is a small, red squirrel who is taking advantage of the seeds they drop onto the deck and picnic table. I looked at the thermometer outside the kitchen window when I got up and read -20°. Then I realized I was looking at the Fahrenheit side of the scale and reread -28°C. Either way, it is frickin’ cold out there. Even though the mercury has risen a bit (to -20°C) and I have the wood stove and several baseboard heaters going, the house just doesn’t seem to be able to warm up. The indoor thermometer read 10°C in the kitchen. Sap will rise at that temperature, but only just.

Taking a page out of my parents’ book, I put all the contents of the downstairs freezer into a container on the back deck and have left it open and turned off to defrost. There is an incredible ice build up in there, and I can’t remember the last time I defrosted it. When it gets so bad that I can’t close the door, I hack off the obstructing ice with a hammer. This time, however, there’s barely any room for the food.

Yesterday was a stay-at-home, do-nothing kind of day. I must get my teaching schedule set up or I fear I will turn into some kind of amorphous blob.

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