Alaska Slip and Slide

For quite some time now, we have been doing the Alaska homestead thing. Not to the point of cutting off our electricity and consuming only moose meat. But more like 'homesteading lite'-- berry picking, growing whatever vegetable may survive relentless rain, and heating our drafty little home with wood.
The problem is, the wood thing is getting tiresome.
I do have a foggy recollection of the previous occupants saying something about how nice it was to finally pull out the old wood stove and get some modern oil heat...but that just sounded like old timer talk, nothing to heed as we ran out and stuck a new wood stove back in the house.
To be frank --it's actually a beautiful thing--our modern stove, with low smoke & odor. It's also one of the nicest ways to spend those relentless 18 hour Alaska nights--cuddling by the stove, doing puzzles, watching TV.
The problem is-- those darn cords of wood. People who romanticize wood burning just don't understand how large a cord of wood is (I just looked it up--128 cubic feet). And you need at least that much wood if you want a full month of burn time in a drafty Alaskan house.
There is the process of wood cutting, measuring, splitting with a maul, etc. until you get to stacking. Stacking a cord of birch is like playing Jenga with 15 pound weights. The whole pile can easily topple over on your foot, hand or other body part--leaving you no choice but to start again, except now you have an injury. On top of that--this year's wood pile happened to have interesting molds and mushroom growths, along with the occasional weird ass giant bug. Speaking of bugs, the worst of course are the ubiquitous mosquitoes--stinging happily along your sweaty hair line, as you are stacking said wood.
Last Saturday we were partaking in this family fun fest, and the temperature actually rose to a balmy 72 degrees. On a sunny Alaskan day, 72 easily gets too hot to continue endlessly with wood work. Thus a diversion was set up--the Slip and Slide.
There really is nothing that unusual about setting up a Slip and Slide--just attach the garden hose and you are good to go. This particular model also happened to have a small wading pool that filled at the bottom of the slide--for added splash fun. I chose to sit out the actual sliding part--(heeding the warning about the risk of life long disability) -however I did stick my feet into the wading pool part. As usual I felt the shock of our well water take over, turn my legs red and force me to leap out of the frigid water. I was watching the others purposely slide repeatedly into this pool of glacial water--and decided it was time to measure the water's temperature. Our spring is fed from a glacial river, originating from a large prehistoric ice chunk just 11 miles upriver. We have often wondered, just what temperature was the water feeding the sprinkler, faucet and wading pool? Seemed unusually chilly. So I finally stuck a good thermometer into the Slip and Slide pool--and low and behold watched it drop to a nice and balmy 39 degrees F. Do they call child services for stuff like that in the Lower 48?