It's gotten down to about -17 overnight here in the Catskills. It's certainly the coldest place I've ever been. This much cold does pretty things to our stream (which is still flowing, by the way) and reminds me of a poem which is below.
The little river twittering in the twilight,
The wan, wondering look of the pale sky,
This is almost bliss.
And everything shut up and gone to sleep,
All the troubles and anxieties and pain
Gone under the twilight.
Only the twilight now, and the soft 'Sh!' of the river
That will last for ever.
And at last I know my love for you is here;
I can see it all, it is whole like the twilight,
It is large, so large, I could not see it before,
Because of the little lights and flickers and interruptions,
Troubles, anxieties and pains.
You are the call and I am the answer,
You are the wish, and I the fulfilment,
You are the night, and I the day.
What else? it is perfect enough.
It is perfectly complete,
You and I,
Strange, how we suffer in spite of this!