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urgent message of discomfort
Monday, December 29 2008
There's a nice microclimate at the greenhouse that is altogether different from the one experienced, say, just outside our front door. Winter seems to come early to our front door and last well into April. At the greenhouse, however, every sunny day feels like springtime. This is why I located it at the spot I chose. It's sheltered from the wind and is bathed in sun, at least until the early afternoon (when the sun starts to get jammed up first behind some evergreens and then the house). This morning I was out at the greenhouse chiseling the little rectangular depressions into the door jam to make spaces to attach (and countersink) the hinges. The sun was shining and I had the latest This American Life podcast playing from the cheap yardsale radio I keep in the greenhouse and it was everything working on a projecWWt has the potential to be. (Other great "working on a project" moments include drinking gin and tonic while fixing up Gretchen's library back in October of 2002.)
For much of the rest of the day, I hustled back and forth between the garage and the greenhouse. I'd carry measurements of various bits to the garage, cut them out with the various power tools, carry them back to the greenhouse, install them, take some more measurements, and so on. Because of the unorthodox construction methodology I've been using, the greenhouse has plenty of little triangles and squares that need to be filled in if I ever want to seal it from the weather (the ultimate goal). By this evening, I had the greenhouse closed in enough that I reset the maximum/minimum memory on the digital thermometer I've been keeping out there (the minimum had been 11 degrees in the greenhouse and 4 degrees outside).
Now that I have a structure I can work inside, I've been working well past sunset no matter how cold it gets. As I've said in the past, it's not difficult to work outdoors even when it is really cold. I have noticed, however, that once I quit working and go up to the house, the cold accumulated in my body eventually sneaks up and attacks me. I'll be sitting there watching the teevee and suddenly I'll feel a terrible chill, one that I wouldn't normally feel in such indoor conditions. The cold evidently has reached my core and my body, unaware that I've already taken action to come in from the cold, sends an urgent message of discomfort.
For linking purposes this article's URL is:
http://asecular.com/blog.php?081229 feedback
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