The first rays of sun strike the goat willow and the frost-whitened grass of the front field.
Mornings this past week were sharply cold and frosty, giving way to morning sun that sparkled
on crisp grass and feathered twigs with silvery light.
We are rising a bit later just now--one of the perks of retirement.
I am not allwed to be slothful, I hasten to state.
If I were inclined to linger in bed, I couldn't do so in comfort.
At the first flicker of an eyelash or wiggle of my toes, I am pounced upon by cats and lovingly urged to get up and serve their breakfast.
Teasel has been particularly importunate these chilly mornings--poking at me with an insistant paw until I emerge from the covers.
She has an endearing way of sitting up on her haunches and waving her front paws at me until I pick her up and head for the kitchen, trying not to trip over the throng of furry bodies.
The three boy kittens dash outside and gobble their treat of canned food in the carport, while the older cats eat in peace in the kitchen.
With cat tummies comfortably full its time for bird-watching, mousing, sniffing at the mole tunnels.
I start the coffee, poke up the fire, haul on jeans and a heavy top.
My limit is one cup of coffee; with a bit of luck I can sip it by the fire and ease into the day.
My feet are still in slippers and I don't want to walk into the cold grass, so these photos were taken from the front porch or the steps.
The sun comes up now much farther to the south, beaming in low, crossing the sky in a gentle arc to disappear behind the woods of our western boundary before 4 in the afternoon.
I was praying no traffic would come along as they reached the road.
The movement of a deer always appears effortless, springy and light.
Small household tasks have taken my days, the unexciting things which must be done to hold domestic chaos at bay.
I spent over an hour online trying to find rubber boots to replace my familiar rose-colored ones which developed leaks in both boots.
Having gone throgh two pairs of boots in the past 4 years it seemed that perhaps I should buy a
Everything I viewed was formidable in price. I considered authentic wellies, balked at spending that much. Reading reviews I found that Hunters' wellies are no longer made by a Scottish firm but have been farmed out to production in China. All the reviewers felt that the quality was no longer equal to
old time wellies.
I settled on a pair of boots which are selling for $75 at Eddie Bauer. These were $26 plus shipping from a surplus house--only this color and size left in stock.
I'm not overly pleased with them. Too narrow to accomodate a heavy wool sock.
What is the world coming to, when boots are a fashion item rather than the sturdy staples of a hard-working country lifestyle!
The kittens reminded me that I hadn't stripped the seeds from the last batch of sunflower heads salvaged before hard frost.
[The drying seedheads had been in a cardboard box sitting in the front hall--and the bully boys suddenly discovered them as a rattly toy to swat and watch seeds shower onto the floor.]
I learned last autumn that sunflower seeds don't shuck out easily and can leave sharp little prickles
in bare fingers.
I held the heads over a newspaper and whacked with a wooden spoon until most of the seeds fell out.
I now have enough seeds squirreled away in zip-lock bags to sow a plantation of sunflowers come spring.
Simple meals, music to practice for church, a favorite old book re-read.
A few minutes to stab away at my hand-quilting--and always the cats for company!