Suddenly, winter had arrived. After such a long, warm spell it felt like Narnia's snow witch had descended and thrust her nails deep into my body, penetrating down into my bones. I couldn't get warm, even hunched next to the heater, and after many cups of hot chocolate and tea.
There is something to be said for the Norse version of Hell. Eternal, biting cold, damned never to be warm again. The Norse could not comprehend a Hell of flames. Fire, to them, was a welcome and life-giving necessity, not a means of damnation. I can understand their attitude. I hate the cold. I can endure heat, and the discomfort it brings, but cold is just painful. It wracks the body with chills and muscles spasms, makes the extremities go white with pain.
So, I fought it the only way I could. I made blankies. One for everyone in the family. Mine has Penguins on one side, and blue curlicue designs that remind me of the ocean on the other. I used blue baby blanket ribbon to edge it, so it's a like an over sized baby blankie.
I may be reverting to childhood. I don't even remember having a blankie like that, but I always remember wanting one. Something warm, soft, and with that wonderful satin edge that was so smooth to the touch. I made blankies for us all, to keep us warm, and I was happy.
Let the Snow Queen come. Now I have something better than any weapon on earth to fight her: A blankie, to melt her icy, witchy heart.