It sure is cold

For years as an English teacher at Sandpoint High School, I assigned and discussed Jack London's classic short story "To Build a Fire." It's about a newcomer to Alaskan territory who sets off on his own, except for a dog, on a long trek over a little-traveled trail through the snow. He's received cautionary reminders from oldtimers but allows his youthful arrogance to shrug off the advice. As the story begins, the declining temperature is minus 40 degrees.

Long story, short. He breaks through some thin ice, gets his feet wet and tries to build a fire to keep from freezing to death. Because of his inexperience in the wilds when "it sure is cold," he fails to get the fire going and then tries to kill the dog for warmth. The dog is smarter than he is and knows to keep its distance. As the guy slowly dies, those words from the old timer at Sulphur Creek resound in his final thoughts.

I always think about that story during this time of the year, especially when I'm out walking across our fields. Normally, I don't walk in our fields too much in winter, but because we've had sub-freezing temperatures and no precipitation for more than three weeks, I've been able to tramp out some well-beaten pathways through the snow to the south and north of our house. It's taken some snow-shoeing to do this, but once the trails were packed down, I've enjoyed a nice network of walking areas.

I usually gripe, gripe, gripe about winter, but I've totally loved this season so far with its cold, crisp days where clean powdery snow has continued to be more of a pleasure than a pain. Many of these December days have been among the most beautiful I can ever remember.

In fact, I've told many of my friends lately, with no exaggeration, that at 58.5 years old and hanging out in the same area for a lifetime, I'm still acting like a giddy newcomer to Sandpoint while standing in the midst of our fields, eyeing the mountains around us, and quietly thanking God that I get to live here.

The only drawback I've seen so far has been the frozen "frost-free" hydrant at our horse trough. We're back to single digits this week, so it's been two days since I've gotten the "frost free" hydrant to allow water to flow through our short hose into the tank.

This problem has greatly disturbed Kiwi whose self-appointed morning job is to stand beside me with her front paws on the fence, studying the water action and hoping for that special moment when she can grab a mouthful of running water from the hose before I remove it from the hydrant.

This is important work for a Border Collie. For two days, she's waited patiently at that tank as I've lugged bucket after bucket of warm water to thaw out the hydrant, all in vain. We may have to stick a heat tape on it today cuz the tank is only about half full now, and Kiwi's gonna feel useless if she doesn't get to do her morning chores.

In the meantime, I intend to continue enjoying this time when "it sure is cold." Unlike the newcomer in London's story, I'll keep oldtimers' advice in mind, wear my long underwear and try to keep my feet dry while traveling the well-beaten paths with my dogs around the Love farm.

And, as long as our North Idaho winter acts like this, I won't complain.