|might just be the last snow pic this year ... if you're lucky|
Lately, the air is mild and sweet to walk in, and there's even water on the road in places, but there is also so much ice that it is hazardous. I'm afraid to slip and fall, and turn back sooner than usual.
Yesterday, four Canada geese flew in formation low over the farmyard. One had a big chunk out of its right wing. And I heard crows. And the snow is snowball-fit. I'm enjoying this, the slow melt before the pump in the basement starts up again after its three-month respite from running every half-hour. The cats are courting each other out by the barn; a female lounges on the ground, rolls, stretches all sexy before the two interested males following her. Last week a bald eagle flew across the road while we were on our way to town.
Debbie Psovsky, I dreamed about you last night. You gave me a roll of nickels and asked for my advice on your writing. I woke up before having the chance to say Just Pick Up A Pen!
God, I love dreams. They're so goofy. But nice to see you, Deb! Also I need to call your mom. She agreed to make perogies for me every month, but I've had no space in my freezers for quite a while, and still don't. But I am missing those delicious potato dumplings.
On top of the chickens, beef and pork the two deep freezes are full of, it's time to stock up on homemade bread (since summer baking often warms the house too much). I don't know how we'll make space. Last week cheddar and mozzarella were on sale really cheap, and it's a staple around here, so we bought a shitload, grated it in the food processor, measured it into one-cup bags, and stuffed the freezer. These are really handy. Yesterday Everett made a double batch of baked beans; today we'll measure them into baggies and freeze those. Probably need to buy another deep freeze. Or start eating more. It's dangerous to open the freezer door these days, for fear of what may come tumbling out.
Since the weekend I'm feeling normal again, mostly, except for this powerful desire to sleep for a couple hours every afternoon. That is not me, or never has been, but this week it is, so I'm listening to my body and its request for rest. I lie in the lovely green bedroom, which delights me. After five years in a low-light basement bedroom, this cheery warm sunny room is a perfect heaven and a little arrow of appreciation goes out to Scott for it each time I fall gratefully onto the bed. Perhaps I don't really sleep, but maybe I doze a little throughout the time snuggled into my feather pillow. I thank my lucky stars for working conditions that allow me to do this; so much flexibility.