Yesterday we hit a “high” of 8 below zero. When I walked outside
(briefly), it was eerily quiet. Every sound I heard, from a bird
to a plane climbing overhead, sounded strained, tortured, as if
being throttled round the neck.

Today’s even colder – 23 below zero, with a wind chill of 44 below.
Sound hurts. The air is close to liquid. Trees shrink into spindly,
spidery things. The sun is impossibly far away.

At last light the sky is luminous, opals under diamond. The earth shines.