I had an incredible experience recently. Having been transplanted, through the woders of modern aviation technology, from our unseasonably warm Florida home to some of the coldest Connecticut weather of the season, I was a little chilled. Our kind hosts provided a fire in the fireplace and a space heater in our bedroom, so we weren't uncomfortable, but going outside was an adventure, despite heavy coats, hats, gloves, and scarves.
That is, until I found it desirable to take some pictures of the low Old Saybrook tide. Leaning gloveless (I had to operate the camera) against a stiff, steady blow that pushed the wind chill-modified temperature below zero, I was beyond cold. But when my hand finally thawed, something inside me snapped—or more accurately, some internal fire ignited. For the rest of the week, I was warm! Forget the hat, scarf, and gloves; if all I was doing was going from building to car to building again, my coat—and that often enough not even zipped—was sufficient.
On our sledding adventure, I condescended to don hat and gloves (and zip the coat), and the chill never reached me. What a glorious feeling, to feel the cold without being cold!
Alas—though probably all for the best—my internal fire was quenched by returning to Florida's tropical temperatures. Our current cold snap (presently 47 degrees outside) has me feeling quite chilly, even though it's above 60 degrees in the house. I think I'll go fix some hot cocoa while the rest of you laugh at me.
