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At 40 below zero in the Vermont country side, 
the frost can be actually seen in the air
as sparkling frost dust seemingly defying gravity.
The skin showing between your mittens and sleeves
will be frost bitten in a matter of minutes if not covered.
 Gloves just don’t do the job.
Moisture from my breath freezes on my mustache and beard.
Spit is frozen by the time it hits the ground...
Kick it and it shatters into pieces.
Working with any intensity causes the lungs to ache.
The air is crisp and very still. The scenery is crystal clear .
The colors of nature, the sky, trees and chimney smoke rising almost perfectly vertical in the windless valleys are striking and sharp.
Your nostrils begin to stick together. Your forehead hurts at first and your eyes begin to ache when moving from one scene to another for some reason..
Your forehead has stopped hurting so you had better get inside because the skin may be getting frost bit. As you get inside to the warmth of the shack you realize that your lips are splitting and it’s time for the lip balm or they will be bleeding soon.. again. Note not to trim my mustache until Spring. Take off the insulated boots, parker, sweater, coveralls ear flap hat and hood before I start sweating…. Never did get to shovel myself out of the yard. Maybe tomorrow. Stoke up the wood stove, brew up a cup of coffee, sit in the old rocker and listen to the fire crackling.. eating up the wood I’ve split and dried.
     Maybe tomorrow it’ll warm up a bit eh, old dog friend of mine? Lay down Country Boy and rest your old bones. We’ll go fetch us some work in town tomorrow if the truck starts. Atta boy … lay down there and we’ll day dream a while about going down to Florida to live next winter. Meanwhile, well meanwhile, ..you know … we’ll just …… listen to the fire…. And ….be warm …....
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