Snow began to fall over the weekend--the sticky wet kind that comes down on a grey and dismal day.
I noticed that the recorded temperature didn't seem to move from the freezing mark although by Sunday morning it was obviously much colder.
A rim of wet snow had frozen around the edges of our old-fashioned outside thermometer. I hoisted myself onto the kitchen counter, opened the window and tunked on the plastic case of the thermometer, then turned the bracket so that I could see the back.
The little coil on the back which responds to heat or cold to move the red indicator needle was frozen in place.
I fetched my hair dryer, turned it on and aimed it at the thermometer, shivering as a blast of cold air swept through the open window.
The blob of ice 'let go' suddenly and the red needle zoomed to the end of the dial, then began a slow descent. During this week of cold and snowy weather we've not felt sure that the thermometer was giving an accurate reading. We looked at those on offer at Lowes and once again agreed that we don't need/want a fancy digital thing that requires a battery, so a sleeker model of the dial type has been purchased and awaits installation.
My Dad was obsessed with knowing the outside temperature at all times and had thermometers posted at several downstairs windows of his home.
Jim refers frequently to the online doplar weather map, tracking storms as they move through the area.
I have accuweather forecast on my google news page--but I still want to look out the window and read the numbers! After all, we might be in a situation where the weather is the only conversational tidbit.
After the snowfall the sun came out, skies were brilliantly blue.
Contrails stretched overhead.
The hillside beyond the retaining wall which seemed so drab during the falling of cold rain and snow, took on glitter and sparkle. Cardinals and robins have bounced from branch to branch dislodging snow in icy puffs.
Sally cat likes the old wicker loveseat on the side porch. I made her a snug bed by placing Jim's old down vest in a sturdy box. Sally refused to get in the box, but will bundle up in the vest with the tipped box to her back.
Ice has to be pounded out of the water dish for the outside cats. There are frozen mounds at the edge of the porch where we push out the ice to refill the dish several times per day.
The stray black cat, Crumple, has been lured in to the bowls of kibble; he darts off when he sees us observing him through the glass pane in the front door.
Willis enjoys this shabby folding chair headed into the sun.
He has prowled about in the snow, ever vigilant in his duties as watch cat.
Charlie, the old buffoon who spends much of his days demanding to go out, come in, go out, come in, has decided that 'in' is the better place for a cat of his age. Here he is crowding his daughter, Mima.
Charlie has conceded that perhaps he can remain quietly indoors during these nights of near zero temperatures.
One of the loveliest winter sights in my native New England was blue shadows cast on snow.
It isn't often that we have enough snow in Kentucky to see that effect.
Icicles dangling from the stable roof. They dripped just enough in the afternoon sunshine to create a slight trench in the snow beneath the roof overhang.
Inside in the kitchen window the amaryllis has stirred to life and is climbing above its glass vase.
Life this week has been much about staying warm.
As Jim remarked, most of his 'work' has been to carry in wood by the armload.
We've been grateful for the heavy coats and stout boots which came with us as a legacy from Wyoming winters. Grateful, too, that in retirement we can choose to stay at home until the cold spell is over.