Here is the super cold-snap plant update that is not very exciting because it has not even been below freezing for that long yet: So far, nothing has died.
Still, I worry. It's supposed to be like 18 tomorrow night. 18!
Kristy, who is from Nebraska and may know something about the cold, assures me that 18 is not that cold. And I know that in the scheme of how cold things on this planet can be, it's really not.
I remember staying with Vickie in Rochester, NY, when it was 17 below zero, and oh my god, that was so cold. I have never felt that kind of cold before or since and I hope I never do again; it feels like the air itself is playing an evil trick on you. Solid things like bricks are actually appreciably harder when it's that cold. It's horrible. I had gone to New York with the idea that I might move up there to be closer to my friends, but one brief taste of 17 below chased my feckless 18-year-old ass right back down to Texas, and it scared me so bad I will probably stay here forever.
Anyway. Eighteen above is not like that, but it's still pretty damn cold, and it's especially cold for Texas and our wimpy pipes and lame insulation and native plants, which grimly but gamely hung on through the hottest summer ever and now must put up with this insane cold crap. The question remains: Will they make it another day? Log on, check back, stop by and visit us at, etc. etc., blah blah blah.