As this New Year has been frozen since it's first hours and the wood pile quickly dwindles to ash. I listen to NPR and hear the temperature in Antarctica is 40 degrees.
Far to soon I am longing for spring.
Nice (the dog) has taken to whining impatiently for the long walks. A mile or two hardly phase him. Our short walks in the mornings and evenings stay his groans less and less. Occasionally we walk for four hours. This only gets him in the mood to pull and tug on the leash. He then jumps high with the rope in his teeth, growling back and forth, coaxing a tug of war as he alternately frightens or amuses passers by.
We both long for Spring.