Here in Fairbanks, we pay attention to the temperature. when the temperature outside can go from -20F one day to +10F the next, it matters what the temperature is outside. it's not just whether or not woolies will be part of the ensemble on any given day, some days the temperature tells us what we'll likely be doing that day. we pay so much attention that it's not that unusual to check the temperature at the house, then log on to see what the temperature is downtown at the airport, up at Birch Hill (one of our two developed skiing venues), and then call around to our friends to see what it is at their house. all of these readings are part of the complicated calculus that tells us what to wear, if we can skate ski or classic ski, whether or not the dogs will be wearing booties outside. on Saturday, we woke to -24F at the house, -33F at the airport, and -22F at Birch Hill - no inversion. no skiing and the dogs were wearing booties.
Cob and i took Nuchie and his friend Molly ("Poops") on a walk, since -24F below is not much good for anything else. strangely, -24F didn't seem to bother the dogs much, or at least not as much as the booties did. both of them high-stepped around the house like Tennessee Walkers until they got used to their booties. or until they get outside and the mad glee of being out there overwhelms them!
things got a little frosty...
ok, things got a lot frosty...
makes our beaver hats look like bad '70s hair, eh?
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