That's an icicle coming out of our garden hose connection. Good thing we don't need to water the garden.
Here, look at it again.
An unexpected side effect from this time without water is my new found fondness for rubber gloves. I'm wearing a pair now as I type. They are awesome. Doing dishes with ice cold water, followed by the rinse cycle of boiling water from the stove top has resulted in my having hands that no well educated, 42 year old woman from a well established family in the west should have. If that sounds snobby that's because it is. When I chose this life that I'm living I've rolled easily with the jobs I've had to do like repairing poop tubes with duct tape, carrying water so I can wash, and chopping wood so I can stay warm. But I never imagined that it would involve having hands that are so dry and chapped that they snag my knitting. (I've long ago given up my fondness for manicures. Now they are just a waste of money...maybe they always have been, but I digress). My friend Christine recently gifted me a box of rubber gloves that have now become all the fashion rage in Maberga. I started wearing them just to do the dishes, but now I keep them on all the time. They feel really nice. Much nicer than my actual hands. When I told David of my attraction to this new accessory he just said, "and that's when we knew." When I'm an old woman I shall wear rubber gloves....all the time.
PS. I've just read this post to david as a check before I hit "publish". His only comment... "do you chop wood?" No, dear. I don't chop wood. You know I don't chop wood. Poetic licence exists in blogging too.