The night before last, I couldn’t sleep. Despite having three blankets piled on top of me, plus the insulation of flannel jammies, I woke up in the middle of the night feeling ice cold. I stretched my legs to roll over, and quickly recoiled into a hedgehog-like ball as the frosty sheets nipped at my toes. My nose was practically numb, so I yanked the edge of one of the blankets over my head and breathed heavily into the cold, dark space. Nights like this one are startlingly reminiscent of the many freezing cold nights I spent in my tent as a treeplanter, but without bug dope and bama socks, being cold feels more like an annoyance than an adventure. Eventually, I must have warmed up enough to fall back asleep, and I distinctly remember dreaming about snow.

Last night, however, I slept with the warm, satisfied grin of a cat in the sun. The heat has at last been turned on in our building, and while our apartment is still rather chilly, the bedroom warms up enough at night that we can sleep in cozy, frost-free warmth. So for now, the extra blankets have been relocated to the couch, and the flannel jammies have been stored away. And though the weather forecast is looking pretty nippy, hopefully our apartment will stay warm enough to keep the frost in my dreams, and not on my nose.