So, some of us cavort with arctic foxes in the name of research, but others truly know how to suffer for their art: halseanderson walks through the snow in her stocking feet as research for her next historical, Forge.

If I remember right, 13 degrees is pretty close to the temperature where I discovered that you can come close to getting frostbitten through your gloves even if you never touch snow, if they’re the wrong kind of gloves.

I am in awe.

Also, I have the sudden urge to go back and line my protagonist’s boots and hat with fur Right Now. Mine, too. (Hey, it’s cold in the desert this weekend! Snow on the mountains and all.)

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