Thoughts on a Twelve-below Day

Twelve below zero this morning.
The outside cats
are now loving the life
of enclosed porch cats
and compete for the privilege
of sleeping directly on the radiator.
The house is toasty warm
thanks to Den and his autumn wood-cutting.
It is hard for me to remember that it is cold outside.
The sink that Den left dripping
because running water helps prevent freezing--
I accidently turned it off after washing my hands.
Ooooooops.
Two hours later,
the pipe was frozen at the wellhead.
We now have an extension cord
running from the garage
to a light in the well
for warmth.

So far, winter has been fun in first grade in the valley.
(Interesting.
I live on "the mountain"
and I teach in "the valley"
and everyone around here knows exactly
where those seemingly unnamed places are.)
Last week I took my class out for recess
and there was a patch of ice on the pavement.
I remembered the Peanuts kids
revelling in childhood ice-sliding
and, after a semi-silly reminder
that ice is slippery
and a warning to be careful,
I turned my class loose.
There were squeals of delight
and huge, toothy,
or sometimes toothless,
smiles.
The next day at recess,
we went to the ballfield.
Amid the frozen elk tracks,
kids had fun hacking up snowman remnants with sticks,
yes, sticks,
and "skunking" each other
by drawing white stripes
down friends' backs
with balls of snow.
Yesterday
our janitor Doug said,
"Hey Shaffner,  
You're a science person.
Look at those bumps.
The wind blew snow into rolls."
I could have hugged him, I was so excited.
Snow rolls are an extremely rare phenomenon.
Fifty-six years of Pennsylvania winters
and I had never seen a snow roll
'til now.  
I settled for a thankful enthusiastic handshake
and immediately brought my class to the lobby doors
to see the snow rolls.
During lunch,

Claw, our math puppet, explores a snow roller.

I bundled up
and took
our math puppet's picture in a snow roll
so the kids could see the details up close
since the temperatures
had already started on their sub-zero journey.

At twelve below today,
school is cancelled.
Instead, I spent part of the morning making cut-out cookies
for our Groundhog Day assembly
coming later this week.
Punxsutawney is a neighboring town
but many kids will never make it there
to watch Punsxy Phil make his official prognostication
so we will pretend we are at Gobbler's Knob
and dance
and sing
and wear goofy hats
and pull a groundhog puppet out of a garbage can
and listen carefully to what he has to say.
Most people are hoping for no shadow--
spring is just around the corner--
but, hey,
winter is good, too.