Years ago in high school I read Jack London's famous short story, "To Build A Fire". In that story a lone traveler was hiking across the desolate frozen Alaska landscape. His only companion was his fateful dog. For him the temperature was 65 below. A dangerous temperature for even the most seasoned of men. If you know the story the rest of this will make sense. Michelle and I were out at the barn to get a round bale of hay. When we were done she went back to make lunch. I stayed behind to finish a few things. Our temperature was around zero and the wind chill was well below zero. I needed to work on the tractor without my gloves on my hands. Slowly my hands started to freeze. The tell tale feeling of frostbite was setting in, my fingers grew stiff as they started to freeze. The dilemma was how to get them warm, the tractor was off and cooled down, the wood stove was not lit today and it is a quarter mile walk back to the house. So I hastily built a fire in the cold stove and lovingly nurtured the small flames so to thaw my now numb fingers. Slowly my fingers regained their warm and feeling. I thought to myself; fire equals life. Keep that in mind as you venture out into the cold; cold is always hungry, it knows no fear except for fire.
If you get a chance you might want to read that short story from Jack London.
If you get a chance you might want to read that short story from Jack London.
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