January 24

A loud crack within the house sometime in the middle of the night awakened me, and it took a few moments to realize what it was. Bitter cold had caused something in the house frame to shift enough to give off such a loud snap. I got up to look at the thermometer on the kitchen window, and it registered -5 degrees outside, and I could tell that a moderate breeze also blew.

I hadn’t heard the house crack like that since before we moved here – our old farm house in Kalamazoo would creak and pop in the bitter cold. In truth, I don’t think we’ve had such cold temperatures in years, and I suppose it may be on account of the global warming patterns. To read the accounts of New England winters from decades ago makes you realize that weather temperatures have moderated in the winters. Writers frequently recount bitter stretches of days and deepening snow, where the tendency to sit by the fire and hunker down waiting for a break. We contract in winter, look inward, and conserve our own spirit as well as our bodily heat. The cold outside forces us inward, waiting and hoping. Perhaps this is what our house is simply doing.