Adaptability

In the early morning dawn the day breaks, the sun rises and I awake to an arctic bitter frost. The bone chilling chilliness, the chilly of the northern hemisphere, the place I call home. Today it’s a colder, coldest Alberta Clipper, freezing, fridgid, frigoric, frosty, frozen, glacial, wintery, low temperature cold snap.

Outside the frosted windows from the warmth of my cabin I see the winter kill of icicles hanging from my uninsulated roof, a harbinger of death as the stockpile of wood depletes. Judiciously preserve and conserve to keep the stove fire going at a constant low temperature is the mantra I repeat to myself. Shuddering, shivering and trembling at the wintery gelidity I suffer through the effects of a common cold that keeps me inside these four walls.



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