Fire cannot raise a snowbound cabin’s temperature above twenty degrees.

Evidence

Page 221 this morning, very fine and hard. It blows in through the chinks and dusts this letter while I write. Mr. Kavan keeps my ink bottle close to the fire, and hands it to me every time that I need to dip my pen. We have a huge fire, but cannot raise the temperature above 20°. Ever since I returned the lake has been hard enough to bear a wagon, but to-day it is difficult to keep the water hole open by the constant use of the axe. — Isabella L. Bird, A Lady’s Life in the Rocky Mountains, 240

Categorization

• SHARE: The ink bottle kept by the fire and handed over at each dip is the kind of detail only someone who writes in the cold would love.
• FICTION: The chores of writing itself as survival labor — thawing ink, chopping the water hole open — is a ready-made texture for any frontier scene.