It seems ironic that our coldest time of year is when the sun is on the rise. At the risk of sounding like an old fisherman telling a tale, I still have to say that this isn't as cold as it's been in years past.
These are tonight's stats with a 9 mph wind:
|Temperature||-43 F (-42 C)|
|Windchill||-68 F (-56 C)|
I remember school being dismissed a few years ago because, not only was the ambient temperature around -60, the windchill was -84. And I'm sure lifelong residents would have no trouble topping that.
But, forty below seems to be the magic number that brings all things mechanical to a screeching halt. The school bus is relegated to the bus barn because metal parts tend to snap. Bush planes aren't supposed to be in the air at -40 or colder and I can't say I'd want to be on one that was.
Moisture from furnaces crystallizes and hangs in the air like a veil.
Without the buzz of four-wheelers and snow machines, the village might settle into an eerie sort of silence.
In temperatures like these, fabrics containing polyester stiffen and make crinkling sounds when the wearer moves. A group of children in store-bought coats sound like a bunch of potato chip bags being crumpled together.
Nothing silent about that.
Even the snow is noisy...like treading on Styrofoam, it squeaks and creaks with every step.
I just let Rudy out for the last time tonight. When he came back inside five minutes later, his teeth were actually chattering! I had to laugh. It just isn't often that one hears the sound of chattering teeth emanating from a dog.
It seems that Peace and Quiet, those long-standing friends, spend most of the year together. But when the mercury drops to forty below, Quiet looks for some warmer weather.