Confusion

This morning when Cubby and I went outside to let the chickens out, it was a frosty 27 degrees. Literally frosty--every surface had a half-inch layer of frost on it. Including Cubby's beloved tractor.

The tractor had been left out by the dog pen, so it too was covered in a thick layer of frost. Cubby grabbed the steering wheel in preparation for climbing aboard for his usual play session, and then snatched his hand back. He tried this a few times, and then turned to me with the most bewildered expression on his face. "Co?" he said, holding out his cold little hand. "Wah?"

Yes, my sweet, cold and wet. This is only the beginning. Brace yourself, son. The Blackrock winter has arrived.