Daybreak was a shading from night into a dull grey landscape--it is as dark now at noon as it was at 7 A.M.
We have been slow and puttery this morning, J. putting on heavy overalls and jacket before heading to the barn to feed Pebbles and the calico cat sisters.
I lingered by the fire, drying my hair.
The cats have been restless, their usual attitude toward changing weather.
The north wind is howling, sending cold draughts around the windows of the bedrooms.
One of these rooms houses my desk and PC. I've closed the inside wooden shutters and sit hunched over my keyboard.
Cold dark weather is forecast for the remainder of the week.
I find it interesting to note that I dress for the comparatively cold days of Kentucky much as I did for winter in Vermont and Wyoming, where 'cold' meant temperatures anywhere from 20 to 40 degrees colder!
The boy cats have decided that, for now, they prefer being indoors to out trolling through the tall bleached grass in search of meadow mice.
J. has built a fire in the shop and betaken himself out to his current tractor restoration project.
I spent several hours with him yesterday helping to mask and tape tractor and wheels for painting.
It has been nearly 16 years since I worked in a friend's auto body shop, much longer than that since my son taught me to 'mask' for him when he painted vehicles.
Perhaps it is true that no skill thoroughly learned goes to waste.
I changed the layers of quilts on our huge bed on Sunday and bundled aside the thick charity shop comforter.
Teasel inserted herself into the folds creating a cozy nest.
The house, this blustery day, is littered with cats who have come in from the cold!
The dooryard is alive with cardinals and juncos, picking frantically for food to sustain them through the cold.
I miss having birdfeeders.
We gave them up last winter when it became apparent that the boy cats are avid and deadly hunters.
Both juncos and cardinals like to feed on the ground.
During the bitter weather two weeks ago [when the cats preferred the hearth] I flung birdseed on the gravel of the drive where it sweeps into the back yard.
The birds are still picking there.
I rarely have a good photo as they bob about or fly up as I press the shutter.
I've considered bringing my smaller sewing machine upstairs and setting up shop on the dining table.
Starting the fire downstairs doesn't seem a good option unless the cold deepens and we need again to protect the pipes in the back hall.
J. dumps an armload of wood beside the fireplace each time he comes in.
My fabric and 'tools' are all stashed downstairs in the big family room, but surely one of my 'works in progress' could live upstairs for a few days to pass the hours of bad weather.
It is a temptation merely to huddle near the fire, settling into my rocking chair with a tipple of books piled round me, a mug of tea at my elbow.
This I feel, will not do!
A few kitchen chores call me--then, perhaps [only perhaps] I will be inspired to be a good
steward of my time.