Cold as it is , there were still smoldering wisps from the leafy peaty forest floor this afternoon - remaining flammable.
In summer it is like being surrounded by napalm satchels.
This morning there was a convincing sheet of ice on the tin roofing , under my sleeping breath, it rose and froze.
As the sun cleared the tree line this morning, the inner sheet melted and created plinking puddles in the morning (late morning) floor board return to a world that wasn't staring into temperatureless space.
But now sweet rain ..
Precipitation from out side the house where it's smackin on tin all night.