It was a bit chilly last night in the forest near Prescott, Arizona. Matilda jumped up on the bed earlier than usual and I noticed her breaths were slow and long and ended with a shiver.
Just poking my head out from inside the sleeping bag I could tell it was very, very cold. So I got Matilda to move, opened up the bag and invited her in.
She jumped back up onto the bed, stepped into the bag, and laid down where I had drawn back the covers.
I then covered us both–leaving our heads out for air. But it was only a moment later that Matilda pulled her head back under, went into a ball, and let out a big sigh.
Needless to say, we stayed in bed long past the first light that had become our alarm clock.
Neither Matilda nor I made a move.
Until I decided that the longer we waited to get up, the greater the chance that Matilda, or I – or both of us – might have an “accident.”
So I jumped out of bed, put on a bunch of warm clothes and hustled Matilda out the door and down the road for our morning walk.
It wasn’t long before we encountered the camp host who reported that the temperature had gotten down to 28 degrees the night before.
That’s the coldest night we’ve encountered so far.