Deep freeze

It's cold. Crisp and clear, and I certainly appreciate the view of the night sky. The stars, planets, the Milky Way itself, are gloriously showcased against the blackest of black backgrounds. It's cold, though, and I am loathe to linger too long in admiration. The ground winks back with its own reflected sparkle.
Instead of slopping through the mud, I crunch over it on my way to the barn.
The horses are thick with glossy Winter fuzz, their guard hairs standing out. I've let their bridle paths grow out, and they all sport a Tina Turner-style 'do.
I hear that more cold's on the way. The kind that will freeze the water buckets even inside the barn.
I could complain about it, but it's not raining. The brightness is welcome, though I could do with a longer day in lieu of these short, bright, brittle ones.
So each little fuzzball gets a bit extra hay, and then it's back to the now overly warm-seeming house.
The phones are all screwy again, so I'll have to assuage this bit of Winter loneliness with trying to scare up some online friends for a bit of distraction, tonight. See how everyone's doing. My cell doesn't work very well at my house.
The cold seems to add an extra layer to the isolation I feel sometimes. It has nothing to do with being alone, though everything to do with loneliness.
Even those stars seem more distant, this night.
One other thing about nights like this is that the bed sheets seem every bit as cold as the air outside. Climbing in, I huddle in a fetal ball, and try to conserve body heat. Luckily, I will fall asleep before I get fully warm, and wake up midway through to enjoy that warmth.