Tag Archive | snow

Winter is Here

Dec2

It came Sunday around noon with a gentle snow drifting down like cherry blossoms. Two inches were predicted which meant no worries about the driveway, clearing the car, even shoveling wouldn’t be too bad. Snow was still falling at bedtime, branches were bowing, cares were mounting.

I am as grateful as the parched earth for the moisture. As I woke thinking of the efforts that a big snow demands, my momentary resistance was eclipsed by the realization that I traded traffic and all it implies for this, and I was instantly happy to shovel snow.

Monday morning Wren burst out the door in her pink ‘outside’ sweater scattering deer and songbirds, but she stayed only as long as she needed to. I committed the day to incremental shoveling of essential pathways with rests between ventures out. It stayed cold all day despite abundant sunshine. Topaz refuses to go outside. I’m so glad for our long ramble on Saturday, enough to hold us for a couple of months.

Wren wore her parka for our longer forays out to shovel, and changed into her blue ‘inside’ sweater until the house warmed up enough. Like puppy like human, changing up layers all day long to stay just right.

Today the forecast was again for two inches of snow. I didn’t trust that, and when it started soft again this morning as it had on Sunday, I called the clinic and postponed my appointment. It was cloudy and cold all day and snowed off and on, for a grand total of new snow measuring half an inch. Ridiculous! But I heard that the clinic parking lot was so icy that people were falling down, and I was glad I stayed home. After a productive day I baked cinnamon rolls for the neighbor who was kind enough to clear our driveways. I think I’m closing in on the perfect recipe. We’ll know more tomorrow!

Stepping Up

Apr1

More moments of ephemeral beauty, snowflakes and blossoms off and on all day.

Lunch was a deconstructed Brie and apricot sandwich, spread with an ancestral silver butter knife, savored bite by bite.

Where’s Wren?

I thought it would be climate chaos that I had to worry over for the rest of my life, trusting that at least I’d have the luxury of a stable government, even if it might be reticent to brake the industrial exploitation of our living planet. I thought it would at least keep moving in right direction rather than expediting planetary systems collapse (acidifying and warming oceans, extreme weather fluctuations and storms, catastrophic drought and floods, species extinctions, and so on). I believed that at least some of my taxpayer dollars would go to protect public lands and conservation science. Also, I expected my tax dollars to support roads, bridges, healthcare, water conservation through wise irrigation projects, retirement and disability benefits I paid into, etc., rather than fattening the self-absorbed lifestyles of the rich and greedy. I’m disappointed.

But maybe New Jersey Senator Cory Booker will help us turn the tide. He really rose to the occasion with his record-breaking filibuster today. We can all join the movement to save democracy: step up and take to the streets this Saturday.

A Foggy Christmas

Jan1

It felt like spring for a couple of days before Christmas, so I thought to check the solitary bee house on the south side of the solitary person house. The previous unit filled up, and didn’t seem to be getting reused, so I hung that in the desert willow just in case, and installed the new unit last summer on the south window buck. I’m pleased to see a few bee nests occupied.

My dear Yarden Helper brought his Norwegian specialty bake when he came to work on Christmas Eve, äpplekakke. I enjoyed a slice for Christmas breakfast. Then I enjoyed another perfect slice of potica for elevenses.

A portion of the crust dough during the laminating process.

And in between, I set to work on the pie. I used Vaughn’s laminated pie crust, and had mixed the crust the night before, leaving some big blobs of butter as directed. I froze half, and let the other half sit in the cold mudroom overnight. It was perfect after about an hour in the kitchen, and rolled out as beautifully as any crust I’ve ever made. Maybe more so. See the Thanksgiving pie disaster with the same crust, different approach.

Speaking of the Thanksgiving pie disaster, it’s what inspired this classic pecan pie, with an old-fashioned Karo-brown sugar filling instead of adding cornmeal — yuck! It was perfect: so sweet it made my teeth hurt.

I took the pie, and a loaf of bread, and some citrusy roasted cauliflower, up the driveway to share a casual midday Christmas dinner with the Honey Badger family. The fog was so dense on that short drive I turned on my headlights on the off-chance someone might be heading down my driveway. From their house, you couldn’t see the neighbors’. But by the time we’d finished our delicious meal and overdue visit, the unusual fog was breaking up, and the drive home — two driveways worth — was equally beautiful.

Clearly, I am still catching up with myself, since it is already a week past Christmas. Only a few more posts til I am up to speed for the new year. And then I’ll tell you about No-Buy New Year…

Snow Helpers

Mar3

Wind continued to blow at 40 mph until after I went to bed last night after midnight, but still no snow. The forecast was for less than an inch overnight. Imagine my surprise when I woke at 8 to this view! I’m grateful for this bountiful moisture in early spring, our biggest single snowfall in several years.

Imagine Wren’s surprise when she dashed out first thing to pee!

Later I had to shovel a couple of paths for her, one to a pee spot out front, and another to her poop tree out back. I didn’t measure but it was well over a foot of snow, around sixteen inches before it warmed up and started to settle. I texted our snowplow guy who had to dig himself out first and then some other neighbors.

The same garden cages after a couple of hours, amazing how fast the snow settled.

By the time he arrived the light deep snow had been melting for a few hours and become dense, wet snow, half as deep and twice as heavy. He tried to charge me $50 for plowing the quarter mile driveway, same as last time. “I can’t do that,” I scolded, “There’s at least twice as much snow as before.” I paid him $75, and then he shoveled a path from the front door to the wood pile, and brushed off the car. I’m so grateful for such a cheerful and kind snow helper.

My other little snow helper, happy to be inside warm and dry, surrounded by toys and beds.

Please Try Again!

Feb15

I’m very grateful to those of you who tried to submit the comment form to the BLM using the link in yesterday’s post. If some of you were successful, so much the better! But some of you had trouble getting it to go through, as did I, which I reported to the Conservation Center. They fixed the glitch, and at least one person was able to successfully submit the form from yesterday’s link. If you’d rather not try that again, please try starting at their main page, and then click on the light green block on the left just below the banner heading and follow on to the form. Thank you again!

I’m also grateful today for another simple salad, and for a leftover heel of sourdough that I chopped up and toasted in bacon fat to make croutons. I’m grateful for an abundance of smoked Gouda, which I added to the salad, along with avocado, carrot, broccoli, celery, and a little bit of bacon. I made a simple vinaigrette the way I learned from the Colonel, including a pinch of dry mustard, a spoonful of mayonnaise, and some herbs. So simple, so delicious. And I’m grateful to understand that my contentment can hold sadness.

I’m grateful for playing in the snow with little Wren.

Blessed Sameness

Feb4
Overnight snow Friday led to a fairyland yarden Saturday morning.

And today the sun came out, so I could wash the rest of the tea towels; those that had already been in the laundry hamper when I had to wash the clean drawerful. A couple more favorites came out in this wash, a new bird towel and an old lizard towel, both gifts. I was grateful for a sunny day, my reliable washing machine, a cheerful helper to bring firewood down to the house; making time to exercise, work, and continue the kitchen deep clean; baking bread, visiting with a friend in Canada, and the technology that allowed that connection; for being able to read, and for reading a captivating novel by prolific Australian writer Thomas Keneally called The Dickens Boy, about the life of Charles Dickens’s youngest son as a sheep rancher in Australia.

Wren’s last snowball of the day

And I’m grateful for throwing snowballs for Wren, who won’t chase a regular ball but eagerly runs after a snowball. She hasn’t learned to bring it back yet, but she’s getting pretty good at finding and biting it. Maybe this winter I can train her with snowballs, and by summer she’ll fetch a tennis ball. Something to aspire to. I’m grateful for all the minute differences that ornament the blessed sameness of my days.

A Cloudy Day

Dec8

Sometimes grey is just the right color for a day. I’m grateful for a cloudy day with scattered snow showers and mist. Wren, Topaz and I enjoyed a break from work with a mid-afternoon walk up the driveway.

Where’s Wren?

Minutes after we got back inside, the dark clouds opened and snow pelted down for a few minutes, but overall only an inch or so fell here. In the mountains, though, a wealth of snow to replenish the reservoirs. I’m grateful for a cloudy day.

Snowy Saturday

Dec2
I am NOT violating Puzzle Rule #1: The coffee only appears to be above the puzzle, I would never hold a beverage over a Liberty puzzle.

A quiet, snowy Saturday, sleeping late and enjoying a latté and a puzzle: I couldn’t be more grateful for these delights, and I know that it is only through the grace of my birth and the conditions that led to this moment that it is what it is. I did nearly nothing of importance today, just relaxed and enjoyed the simple pleasures of food, water, shelter, and space: the essential ingredients of any animal life.

Deconstructed cheese sandwich: smoked gouda melting on sourdough toast, avocado mayo, and a tiny fresh tomato from the sunroom vine. Wasn’t sure the proportions would work out if I spread them all on the toast at once, so I added flavors bite by bite. Because I’m grateful to have the time and ease to be able to do so.
After lunch, Wren naps in my lap.

Come ON! How fantastic is this? Garden clippers that actually ‘clip’! So grateful for the genius of the Liberty Puzzle puzzle master.

Just before dark we went for a walk. Wren was sneezing when she came back from this romp, and I thought she might have gotten a grass seed up her nose. She seemed to have sneezed it out by the time she got back to me so I didn’t worry about it. Playing this back frame by frame I could note the moment she did get a seed up her nose, and see it still sticking out at the moment the video ends. Clearly she got it out because she quit sneezing and has been fine ever since. It was so long that I’d have noticed if she hadn’t relieved herself of it. Super grateful for that!

For supper, just a snack of miso-maple toasted walnuts. So simple, so delicious. Grateful to watch the finale of the 2023 Great British Baking Show, and inspired, though I’m trying to quit.

No-Buy November

Dec1

I’m grateful for the first real snow of the season, which started last night and has continued throughout the day. We woke to a couple of inches this morning, and at bedtime tonight it’s up to five or six. So it’s been slow and easy all day. The first snow of the year always reminds me of Conrad Aiken’s short story “Silent Snow, Secret Snow,” and brings that muffled sense of peace and isolation he captured so intimately. Wren knows nothing about that story, dwelling in the moment with a snowball on the deck. Seconds after we came inside a snow shelf slid off the roof that would have buried her.

Any money I saved (and there was plenty) by not buying things I don’t need with money I don’t have was instantly offset by the new starter for the Honda. Otherwise, No-Buy November was a smashing success. I’m grateful for the mindful practice of not being a consumer for most of last month, except of groceries and an essential car repair. It’s reset my spendometer to zero and I intend to creep along at a much slower pace going forward. In fact, I’m planning on a Junk-free January, where not only do I not buy anything I don’t need including junk food, but I’ll work hard on getting rid of things I don’t need or that don’t spark joy.

Obviously, because of the joy they spark and the mental exercise, I won’t be relinquishing any Liberty puzzles. I’m grateful to have a couple of new puzzles from our Maryland satellite library, and started a lovely one today after wrapping up the week’s work.

There’s a floral theme, and I started with the easy part, the garden stool. I love, as usual, how the pieces align with the image, as in the bird piece above landing on the bird image. Another trick in this puzzle which is rare in these masterpieces, is at least one piece that fits where it doesn’t belong. I’ve seen this a few times, and know it’s an intentional mind game from the puzzle master, which adds to the delight.

Wrong piece above, and right piece below.

I’m grateful for the luxury of having more than I need, and the wisdom to recognize it. I’m grateful for the lessons of No-Buy November and the motivation to pare down and simplify.

Living Inside the Kaleidoscope

Oct29

I was grateful to wake this morning to a few inches of snow, especially knowing it means a lot of snow in the mountain reservoir: an auspicious beginning to our essential snowpack. The deer were grateful for leaves lowered within browsing range by heavy snow. Morning coffee was naturally enjoyed indoors, with a little beggar hoping for a nut from my trail mix cookie. Even Topaz didn’t want to go outside.

I was grateful to see that the dough I let rise overnight formed into a perfect ball when I took it out of the bowl to proof it. I was even more grateful to see the perfect loaf that baked in the cast iron dutch oven. While the bread rose and baked, I was grateful for some loving connection with friends and family over phone and zoom, cozy in my warm home with the little animals and the fire in the woodstove, the scent of baking bread…

The zoom call with Catherine Ingram was especially comforting, finding commonality with others around the globe who are all heartsick over the conditions of power, war, violence, and cruelty rising like a brewing storm. Catherine quoted Kierkegaard in cautioning us to not be ‘tranquilized by the trivial,’ and advised that sometimes the most we can do is simply to “be a light in our own lives – and that starts with being a light in yourself.” There was so much more, and I’ll share the link to the podcast when the conversation is edited and published.

This might be the most beautiful loaf ever! And certainly it was delicious. Naturally I had bread for lunch: the warm heel with butter and some fromage fort that I whipped up with the last bits of some cheddar, havarti, smoked gouda, and mozzarella. So simple, so delicious! For dessert, not surprisingly, I enjoyed a piece of toast with apricot jam. So decadent!

Much of the snow melted during the afternoon, and evening brought a partial clearing of the skies. Then in the span of half an hour the view of Needle Rock went from this…

to this, as setting sun cast its apricot glow on another shower:

I’m grateful for living inside the kaleidoscope.