Posted by: Dave Neads | January 28, 2008

Life at Thirty something

When it gets a little on the chilly side as it did this morning at minus 32 C, it is a convention amongst Ark dwellers to describe temperatures as thirty something or just plain old “32”. It’s understood that the meaning is minus 32, but no one needs to point that out. After all, the frost is thick on the windows, the dog really doesn’t want to go outside, and the tractor needed to be plugged in for three hours before it could start. No one would mistake any reference to 32 as anything but just plain cold.

But then, some really don’t like the ‘new’ cent-ee-grrade numbers. They refer to temperature in what they call “white man’s” language; that means good old Fahrenheit. So thirty two becomes 25. You get the idea.

Of course all this is moot at 40 because 40 is 40 no matter what scale is used.

The latest warm weather blew in on a nasty little squall that lasted for about three hours. The firs bent their heads to the gale, the solar panels spun around on their mounts. Six foot high snow devils danced around the house and over the ridge. The whole building shook each time the wind’s hand slapped the roof, dislodging snow by the fistful.

When the fitful storm passed, the temperature had dropped several degrees (by any scale), the moon was coming out and the eerie silence that often follows such an tumultuous event settled in. Time to throw a couple of extra rounds on that cheery little servant, the wood heater, and settle in to see just to see just how high the numbers will rise before this one’s over.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s


%d bloggers like this: