Snow sifts down like confectioner’s sugar onto a baker’s table. The car and bird feeders sport soft peaked roofs and the wood stove hums amiably by my side. It has ‘warmed up to snow’ as the saying goes, and the house is quiet without necessity for the added blower. Occasionally I hear the quick click and hum of the water pump reassuring me that water is still dripping into a bucket in the bath tub, and the lines have not frozen.
The cat spent his morning in the barn listening for mice amongst the woodpiles and spying on the chickens. Now, having ascertained that he cannot find a way into the bunny and guinea pig cages, and after a half-hearted chase of cat toys, he has retired to my bed for his afternoon nap.
My morning started around 6 a.m. as the smell of coffee, and the quacking of the ducks, wafted into my dreams. I watched as the black night came to grey with the fog light of snow. I’ve been in and out a few times this morning, to collect fire wood and duck eggs and to feed the flock. I had a chore in mind for the morning but that has slipped by with procrastination. It is just too cozy here by my fire, and I am enjoying my book too much.
I am almost at the end and so I have puddled along with other things to extend the pleasure. Social networking brought a lovely link (Breadman) to an audio file of Jon Robert Lennon reading his latest piece in The New Yorker. A very nice antidote to much of the political posts I tend to feed on.
In an hour or so I have to head out to work, and so my work week starts with a part-time shift as lead in to the next few hectic days, until I can again stay home and play in the woods. It’s a bit like school was many decades ago, though now I know I will never be “all grown up and able to do whatever I want whenever I want!” But I have reached a stage where I can be satisfied enough with what I have to limit the have to’s and to find that some of the have to’s have become want to’s.