The Cold Front

The Cold Front

I got up early Sunday morning to find that my thermometer read 14 degrees. We got dressed and attended church. It was really cold, but DRY, so not that bad. On our return, I hurried in to get lunch on the table. We all ate and afterwards, the kids scattered while dad and I did the dishes. As he was wiping the last plate, he asked me if I would like to go for a walk.

“A walk? Uuuhhh…Honey, it is only 16 degrees out there.”

“Well, we could put on some extra jackets.”

I heaved a big, pitiful, sigh and said, “Well, if you really want to, I will for a few minutes.”

I really don’t have enough paper here to describe all of the layers I managed to get on and zipped, but suffice it to say that I was bundled up like the Pillsbury Dough Boy. We headed out of the house, around by the guinea pen, and up the mountain. I was walking as fast as my layers would allow. My chin was tucked into my scarf and as long as I kept moving I was OK. Not warm necessarily, but this side of frostbite. When we came down the mountain, hubby must have had one last jolt of electricity spurt through his frozen synapses because right as I was ready to turn back to the house, he said, “Let’s go on down the road to where I was mowing yesterday.”

I couldn’t exactly turn my head so I nod and head that direction. He was in the process of mowing/clearing a section of yucky stuff that was full of old logs and stumps. The tractor was already at the shed, so I thought that we were going to pick up the golf cart and the trailer that remained down by the road. Bring it in, in case it becomes cold and WET.

We walk on down and I hop into the cart expecting him to hop in right beside me so we can vamoose back to the house for some hot chocolate. Uhhhh…NO. He wants to pick up a load of stumps while we are out. I know you are thinking that I did not type that in correctly. But I did. After all, it is 16 degrees outside. Who digs and loads stumps? On a Sunday afternoon? In 16 degree weather? I am a feared that the frozen electrical jolt to his brain went haywire because he proceeded to drag the shovel over to the first stump and DIG.IT.OUT. Of. The. Ground! Yes, he did!

He lifted his head and cupped his hand around his mouth, “Hey Hon, we might as well take a load of stumps back with us, dontcha think?”

I gunned the golf cart towards him. “Sorry,” I hollered, “My foot got caught on the accelerator.” I think he rolled his eyes at me but it was hard to tell because he had his hat pulled low to keep his head warm.

We bought a little, lightweight trailer to pull behind the golf cart so that I can cart mulch to all of my flower beds. It bounces around behind and makes a horrible racket. It is not built for heavy loads and I am certain it is not meant to be used in 16 degree weather. None the less, hubby would dig and I would pull the little cart alongside and he would load the stump. Finally, I had had enough.

“I am cold and I am going back to the house.”

“OK. You gonna walk back or take the cart?”

I gave him the glare. I gunned it up the hill to turn the entire contraption around but the load was too heavy. My tires were spinning and I was rolling backwards. Hubby tried to holler instructions, but I couldn’t hear so he walked over and stood on the back of the cart to give it some traction.

About this time, I was certain that the neighbors were surely videotaping the whole episode. I mean, WHO in their right minds goes out on a golf cart to haul in stumps in 16 degree weather?

I finally got turned around and headed back downhill. I told hubby that it was time to go in. He nodded and we took off. The trailer bounced and rattled behind us. I didn’t want to let up on the gas or he might see another stump he wanted to load up!

I was almost back to the road when I heard my hubby screaming in my ear and an earth shattering noise behind me. I didn’t want to stop, but he kept yelling at me. As I pulled to a stop, I realized I was dragging an empty trailer. The tired little trailer had flipped over on its side with the last bump.  I would have laid my head on the steering wheel and wailed but I didn’t want to freeze to it.

I was prepared to get out and help reload the trailer but he waved me onward. We rattled up to the house and put the cart in the shed. As I was pulling off my last layer, I heard my phone ring. It was my oldest sister calling to tell me about the cold snap in Austin, Texas.

“Well, I know it is not the same as where you are, but it is cold for us,” she stalled.

“How cold?” I was relentless.

“Well, I really hate to say it to you because I think it is really cold there,” she stalled some more.

“It is 16 here. What is it there?” I replied.

“Oh, well, it is down to 41,” she huffed.

I hung up on her and went for my hot chocolate.

About Fawn Musick

Writings to make you Smile and Think. Fawn is an award winning newspaper columnist. She is an avid writer, blogger, and mom. Her advice comes from her years of mothering her eight children.
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