First Day of March

'Jane' magnolia, rushing the season.

Sunshine all day--a welcome change from too much gloomy weather in February.

I pegged sheets and towels on the back porch lines around noon where they flapped in the sun and wind, needing only a few minutes in the dryer when I brought them in at dusk. 

I peeled off my sweatshirt/hoodie and was comfortable in a long-sleeved jersey to work for several hours in the wall garden on the west side of the house.

I snipped dead stalks from the foxglove and gently pulled away winter-browned leaves to uncover the fresh green crowns. 

The foxgloves raised from seed last summer and belatedly set out in one of the black bins near the veg garden are looking far gone; I'm hoping a few will revive.

I did some cautious pruning of the clematis vines on the big trellis, likewise the wiry tangle of thyme at the base of the trellis.

Dead stems of monarda and purple coneflower cut away, then grubbing in the endless weeds that choke that bed. Henbit or the related dead nettle thrive through the winter along with various other evergreen and maliciously spreading ground cover weeds whose names I look up each spring and promptly forget. 

I labored over that small tiered garden for several years before a DVT in late March, 2021 put an end to my crawling about on the ground.

I can't call the area a success and don't know how to proceed to achieve something manageable that will preserve the foxglove and several roses along the wall. 

I suspect the large white-flowered butterfly bush will have succumbed to the weeks of bitter cold, as also the magenta -flowered pair in the raised bed alongside the greenhouse. 

I've replaced buddleia in three Kentucky gardens over our years here. When I grumbled to my favorite nurseryman at Homestead Gardens he suggested I consider dividing the initial cost of the shrub by the 3-5 years that it usually winters over, which makes for a modest investment against the pleasure of the luxurious blooms and the delight of visiting butterflies.

It will likely be another month before I can determine if any of the three bushes survived the cold.

Jim collected up more of the branches that were brought down by the weeks of ice and cold, used the chainsaw to remove some broken limbs over-hanging the lower lane.

I'm cautiously making a mental list of tasks I'd like to attempt in the coming week, the first in several that I've not had church duties for which to prepare.

I need to go through an accumulation of opened seed packets and speculate which may still be viable.

There are letters I should write, both as emails and to send out by regular mail.

Still a few more items in the pantry to be sorted and either culled or rearranged.

My bedroom wants tidying, as do the shelves to the left of my desk--and how about my clothes closet?

Given my puttering inefficiency at such things, add in the usual household chores of cleaning and cooking--maybe I'll just decide to go downstairs and take up my sewing!

Three seedlings of Lauren's Grape poppies have emerged at the edge of the old raised bed by the steps. 

Three more have braved the narrow rim of hard-packed soil along the south-facing barn door adjacent to the greenhouse. None have yet appeared in the graveled walkway just inside the door, but I can hope.

I had several lovely poppy varieties in my first Kentucky garden; only the one kind moved with us via seeds randomly shed in neighboring planters;  most years some lodge between the pavers near the front steps and bloom.

I've purchased fresh seeds each year but none have germinated. 

However: late last autumn I found a packet of seeds I had overlooked. and sprinkled them over some exposed soil. I'm hoping this is a poppy and not the winter-shriveled relative of a weed. 

Jane magnolia.

Jane

Monarda, holding its own in the mat of ground-cover weeks.

Coming home yesterday from lunch with Matt and Gina, Jim chose a meandering route, finally lumbering over a narrow dirt track that in three places crossed a shallow creek.

With no fear of oncoming traffic he stopped the car so I could record this profusion of wild daffodils.

[I refuse to call them by the local name of 'March lilies!']

Here I sit, an elderly woman, pondering how to make a garden, listing the tasks I want to accomplish--small personal things that have no import in any larger sense, a sort of self-absorbed plodding while [as my Dad would have remarked] the 'world goes to hell in a handbasket.' 

Ending on a pensive note: a scattering of red feathers just inside the greenhouse door and the soft body of a titmouse at the edge of the back porch: little deaths.

What Have We Done With February?

 

By February 10 the last of the ice had melted off the driveway leaving runnels of water and a few spots slippery with mud.

We had been able to walk cautiously around the upper meadow path for several days. 

Robins were bouncing about the back meadow, picking in the soggy frosted grass for whatever nourishment they could find. 

Weather has been erratic: clouds, drizzles of rain; sun coming through for a few minutes or sometimes for an afternoon. 

I pegged sheets and towels on the back porch lines on two days last week where they flapped nearly dry, needing a few minutes in the dryer to finish.

Deer have left their pointy hoof prints in the softened meadow path.

A pair of bluebirds have been flitting about, several pert little titmice have hopped through the branches of the Susan hybrid magnolia.

I've been squirrel watching, though have not been able to sneak up on them for photos. 

The break in the weather seems to have inspired the squirrels to a house cleaning of their nest cavity in the tree visible from the kitchen window.

One or the other is often visible with face peering out; if I watch for a few minutes there is jostling and pushing until one squirrel exits the tree hole, runs up to a branch that makes a good launch to swing through adjoining bare trees. Several times going out with kitchen scraps I've startled one or both of the pair rummaging about on the ground. 

A heap of broken nut shells, mostly hickory nuts, has appeared at the base of the tree. On one warmer afternoon, a squirrel lolled, eyes shut, forepaws resting on a heap of shucks pushed to the 'door' of the nest, apparently interrupting 'house cleaning' to enjoy a bit of a snooze as the late sun shone onto the tree trunk. 

Like the resident squirrels I was [finally] inspired to tackle a bit of housekeeping that has needed done for months.

The round-about that holds bulk spices, salt, dried herbs in shaker-top containers, and various other cooking essentials had become a terrible muddle. 

I placed a folded fleece blanket on the floor, got down on my protesting knees and hauled everything out. There were some duplicate spice jars, items brought in when others of the family were cooking here, things that were outdated, all of which I ruthlessly confined to the trash.

I hauled myself up to the sink several times to wring out a dishcloth and wipe the shelves, then began gathering similar items into small bins, stacking the bulk spices and jars of cornstarch and such where they can be easily identified. 

That chore done, I struggled to my feet, washed down a Tylenol with a mug of tea, went to the piano to review music for church.

No surprise I woke next day feeling aching and rickety!

The right-hand side of the pantry I keep in reasonably good order; several of the compartmented shelves hold store-bought canned fruit and veg, others are stocked with glass containers of various pasta, grains, dried beans and lentils, rice, dried fruit. As long as I take a few minutes to put things away neatly after shopping, the area stays relatively organized.

The left -hand storage area defeats me. Two very deep shelves take up the space which on the other side of the wall becomes a sort of 'header' over the stairway to the lower level.

I can reach only half way into the space. Two crockpots live there, as well as an unmanageable assortment of plastic containers for leftovers. Pulling out what I need usually results in a tipple and the offending items hurled back in.

I've made some half-hearted searches online for bins or small adjustable shelving to corral the stuff, but have given up without finding a solution.

Part of the top shelf after renovation. Gina brought the wire racks.

Gina to the rescue.

There are still too many plastic containers but they have at least been grouped 'like with like.'

Both Howard and Gina have the gift of tidiness and a need to organize tools and belongings.

Jim and I do not have that asset in any marked degree, although we usually can find our own items when needed. 

I've spent a few minutes on amazon looking at storage options again, need to do some measuring to determine what would fit. An obvious partial solution would be to throw away still more of the plastic food containers. I do use them when sharing food with friends; that way there is no need to care if they are returned or not. 

Thimble--who needs to be 'helpful' with every household project, has been inspired to investigate and rearrange the shelves we've been reorganizing.

Moments ago she 'removed' a box of cereal so that she had ample room to sit on the shelf.

Thimble chose to scurry out of the pantry while I swept up the rice crispies on the floor.

The ones not spilled have been decanted into a Rubbermaid canister with locking lid.

Today, Sunday, has been blustering and cold, barely above freezing, and now at 8 p.m. it is 27 F. Snowflakes have drifted down in desultory fashion, only now clinging to the front porch steps and railings.

I went out early in the day with cat litter, to the porch with food for the outside cats, and at dusk out with kitchen scraps. The NW wind has a mean bite. 

We weren't inspired to walk today; Jim has been watching TV;

I delved into a review of family history.

We've eaten leftover shepherd's pie, tapioca pudding, Granny Smith apples, tea. 

With the colder weather I've not turned on the heat in my downstairs sewing area--Jim shuts the curtains in the big room at night and there haven't been enough sunny days to warm the room and justify the use of the electric mini-split for a mere few hours.

It has seemed a long month what with the cold and icy weather that hung on from the late January storms. The need to take on extra duties at church has meant some dedicated hours at my desk and at the piano. [Thimble-cat enjoys the piano!]

Bedtime reading is the third Cadfael omnibus. 

Jim's month has been more visibly productive than mine.

He felled a maple that had gone shaky at the base and several warmer afternoons gave him opportunity to split the wood, haul it to the woodshed where it is now neatly stacked.

Monday and Wednesday are forecast as 'partly sunny,' nights below freezing, weather moderating to 'showers' by the end of the week. 

Wild daffodils have pushed their green blades through leaf litter in the roadside ditches, the small clump near the south wall here are in tight bud.

Even the overcast days have lengthening evenings, and on the days when I've walked there is a faint scent of something that while not quite spring is less of a winter essence. 

Monday Evening

As I was coming to the end of this post on Sunday evening, the internet went down--and stayed down--until mid-morning today.

We woke to the grey skies that have become overly familiar, and a film of light frosty snow that had gathered overnight.

It was one of the too frequent nights when sleep eluded me, in spite of having read until I was in danger of dropping my book.

Robert-cat was curled on the fleecy throw at the foot of my bed and about 1:30 I was alerted to the retching sounds he makes before hoiking up a hairball. 

I heaved him off the bed, but too late, so lights on and padding about to remove the soiled blanket and wipe up the residue on the floor--after having stepped in it bare-footed!

Robert has had a goodly dose of hairball paste this morning and his long black and white fur brushed.

I needed to pick up a refill of my one prescription medicine in the next town, so asked J. if he wanted to go along and stop at Tractor Supply for cat kibble and litter.

Getting out of the car at the pharmacy and again at TSC the wind had a fiercely cold bite.

Another day when walking would have been a misery rather than a joy.

So, home to a mug of tea, welcome warmth within and to my chilled hands.

I returned to my amazon search for pantry storage containers. chose some, and ordered.

There are too many options to consider--a bit like choosing from the many tints and shades of paint!

 I made cream of tomato soup for supper, using a jar of home-canned tomatoes; we ate it with slices of homemade bread toasted.

Desultory days, small necessary tasks accomplished. 

Jim has watched Lonesome Dove and a video of climbers laboring up Mt. Everest.

I watched Kate of The Last Homely House layering a quilt and pinning it ready for her big-stitch hand quilting.

I've looked at the seeds offered by Prairie Moon Nursery--and googled directions for a greenhouse 14 miles away that I've never visited.

And thus are 'the evenings and the mornings' of these late winter days.

Holed Up For the Duration

hole up

Take refuge or shelter

Tomorrow [Friday] marks two weeks since the beginning  of the winter storm. Precipitation has come in layers: freezing rain/sleet, covered with snow that hid what had settled into a precarious sheet of ice. Tiny pellets of snow, large drifting flakes, below freezing temperatures; I feel that the days have slipped by with a befuddling sameness.

Jim brings in extra wood and the main level of the house is cozy. I go downstairs to do laundry, tend the cats' litter box, rummage items from the chest freezer.

 Jim insists on keeping the curtains closed in the large usually welcoming room where my sewing machines and bookcases live. I walk through the unaccustomed dimness to find a book, to gingerly open the back porch door and peer down the expanse of the lower lane and meadow, hoping for evidence of a thawing that hasn't happened.

I braved the lane to the mailbox on Friday morning, needing to post a payment to the water company. Walking through the meadow wasn't a hazard, but when I reached the point where it joined the lane I was of two minds--whether to continue down the slope, past the pond and up to the road or turn around and retreat to the house.

We've had trouble with the water company insisting that our payments don't reach them in time to prevent a late charge--the previous month's check mailed on December 11th but not arriving in their office in town to be posted until December 22. 

I said a prayer and stepped grimly unto the icy lane. The ice/slush mess on the track had been churned by tires, frozen, glassed over. I was able to step onto the verge, actually gripping the ice encrusted wire fence for balance before I had to trust my feet to the narrow expanse of gravel exposed between the frozen ruts. I had brought a walking stick with me, quite useless as the ice pack was too rigid for the stick to pierce.

I made it back up the lane, down the meadow and into the house without a fall, but with the cautionary note received that until we have a warming thaw I won't chance that expedition again!

Sunday, 1st day of February with a reading of 11 F. at 6 a.m. and good reason to return to the warm nest of my bed until 8. 

15 F. by 10:30 a.m. and the welcome surprise of sun casting blue shadows across the gloss of snow. 

The sun made it warm enough to venture walking, bundled in layers of clothing. We made a loop around the upper meadow, cats picking their dainty way behind us. Tracks of small animals--squirrels, possums, birds, embroidered the snow. I had worried that the resident squirrels, if they could remember where nuts were buried, couldn't dig down through the icy crust to retrieve them. Under the hickories that line the upper edges of the north ravine we noted where tiny busy paws had scrabbled through  snow to access the hickory nuts that have lain on top of fallen leaves. 

We made an abbreviated loop of the back lower meadow finding that walking was more difficult there. My right foot encountered a patch of hidden ice and slipped; I didn't fall but the instinctive move to stay upright gave my back a warning tweak.

Jim decided to go inside, but I was so invigorated by sunshine and blue skies that in spite of the cold air  I pottered back around to observe the accomplishments of the pileated woodpecker who spent the weekend bashing at the small cedar visible from the bathroom window. I made another turn around the upper meadow, watched one of the squirrels dash madly up the tree to pop into the nest hole when the crunch of my boots gave the alert. 

The cookie jar was empty and I was prompted to stir up a batch of oatmeal cookies, lavishing a handful of raisins and an extravagant 10 oz package of chocolate chips in the dough. 

I finished the day with an hour of tiny stitches on the applique` project recently resurrected.

I woke Monday with aching bones, resigned to yet another day of below freezing temperatures and dull grey skies. Jim proposed that we do a bit of grocery shopping at the South Fork discount venues and then go on to Liberty to TSC to stock up on cat kibble and litter. 

Main roads clear once the Honda had carefully negotiated the dip of the lane past the pond. 

The days of this prolonged 'cold spell' continue and we are 'holed up' waiting for thaw and release from ice-encrusted surroundings. 

I read, find interesting channels on you tube, cook [homemade spaghetti sauce for pasta] tend the cats, prod at the over-hanging sheets of ice on the porch roof.

There is something quite satisfying to watch slabs of ice plunge to the ground below!

By this morning I felt caged, hemmed in, but mindful of so many who lack the comforts that sustain our family households.

I recalled stories of 'pioneers' snowed in for days in 'soddy houses' or cramped and drafty log cabins. 

When I worked at the quilt shop in Wyoming, a lovely older lady, Audrey, sometimes brought her sewing machine and spent the afternoon with us. Audrey was raised in Nebraska and captivated us with tales of her family huddled in their small house on long dark evenings, a sofa dragged close to the fire, wearing their coats indoors while the endless wind howled outside and sent frigid drafts through the thin walls and ice formed on the inside of window panes.

I've been with Jim in the semi on Nebraska highways in winter, felt the buffeting of the wind, watched snow scudding across flat fields, noted the small white farmhouses and adjacent barns huddled behind a scanty windbreak of trees. 

Who am to protest from the warmth and relative security of a well insulated home that I am tired of winter!

Jim created a path between front porch and woodshed yesterday--and today announced that we could now walk through the barn wing to where he had broken a track across the edge of the garden.

I layered on warm clothes delighted at the opportunity to WALK!

The usual path that circles the field has iced over so our progress was not a leisurely stroll, but more a stomping plod with boots crunching through the meadow grass. 

No matter--it meant fresh air, stretching our legs, a break in our holed up, housebound days!

Caution is still needed; patches of hidden ice lurk, the eaves of house and barn drip creating puddles that quickly freeze. 

Willis and Shelby left the shelter of the front porch and picked their way daintily across the garden to meet us.

Inside to hot tea and cookies, the fire built up for the evening.

I dare to hope that next week will bring the return of the milder weather we've come to expect of a Kentucky winter.

Thimble 'holed up' in the basket that is her current favorite.

Rosie 'holed up' in a cubicle of the cat tower, where she hopes that Thimble won't challenge her.

Squirrel watching remains a delight. 

During the last few days there has been much jostling and shoving at the entrance to the nest, before one of the pair suddenly pushes his way out to flow down the tree trunk or scamper up to launch from the highest branch.

There are two, one a bit smaller and darker furred than the other.

The pileated woodpecker began his drilling on Saturday and continued in a frenzy through Sunday.

An unintentional duplicate of the above photo.

The small cedar has been ringed with drilling.

The woodpecker seems to have abandoned the project after two days of feverish activity, but it may only be that I've not happened to look out the one window from which his worksite can be viewed. 

 

Winter Storm: Day 5

Wednesday sunset.

I pondered how to title this post--we've not seen active storm conditions as in the earlier onslaughts of freezing rain, sleet, snow. Rather, we are in deep cold and the landscape all around is still ice-glazed. 

I tapped gently at an ice encased branch of a hybrid magnolia as I inched past it; the ice held fast, no tinkling fall. 

Walking outdoors is a definite hazard, not only for those of us who qualify as elderly. The top layer of what appears to be snow, is in fact a crust of ice over snow, over a bottom layer of frozen slush. Booted feet slip, crunch, gain traction only to find that the slightest incline down the slope of the dooryard threatens a skid.

Tuesday afternoon I went out the back door with cat litter to dispose of in the usual spot at the edge of the south ravine, well below the house. I had trudged only a few yards when I realized that this wasn't a safe path. I could well end up flat on my back!

I reversed carefully, made my way around the north side of house and barn to the burn pit.

Jim declared yesterday mid-morning [Tuesday] that we should drive to the Appliance Store in town and select a replacement clothes dryer. 

The main road into town was mostly clear although there were patches of black ice. Jim [who has driven thousands of miles cross country in a semi back in the day] is not daunted by winter weather, but allows for inept drivers who, in his opinion, don't know how to drive on ice or snow.

Some effort had been made to scrape the parking area in front of the store, ice melting grit had been strewn in front of the entrance. 

Our purchase quickly settled, arrangements were made for delivery on Thursday, weather conditions permitting.

Wal Mart being next door we went  in for a bag of russet potatoes, a small bag of Honey Crisp apples and a head of celery. Snow had been pushed to one side of the store entrance and frozen in a jagged heap. I took great care maneuvering around it.

Back home Jim drove the car down the slope to the back door, the entrance the delivery men would need to take with their van. He crunched past the porch and up the incline of the lower meadow, turned and came back around. The icy terrain didn't hinder our car, a Honda CR-V, but Jim had reservations concerning the appliance delivery van.

This morning he announced that he would go to town with the Dodge truck and collect the dryer!

Howard phoned as we were eating a late breakfast and announced that he and Shannon were heading into town on errands. He volunteered to retrieve the dryer.

When I noticed his truck coming slowly down the icy lane several hours later I was pleased to note that the dryer was well protected in a  heavy cardboard shipping carton.

Shannon and the dogs kept me company in the kitchen while Jim and Howard dealt with setting up the dryer. 

I had optimistically washed a small load of laundry and happily chucked it all into the dryer. Settings chosen, start knob pushed--nothing happened. 

Jim elbowed in, pushed buttons. Shannon offered help; Howard had heaved himself up from the chilly floor after making sure the unit was leveled. I noticed that while three of us were flapping and fussing around the dryer he was merely rolling his eyes.

I had a sudden brain wave: 'The breaker!' Howard made it first to the breaker box at the foot of the stairs, flipped the correct switch and after another jab at the start knob the dryer obediently began its task.

It was a day of saying 'Duh!' first over the dryer/breaker episode, then for me in my cooking venture of the day.

I stewed two large chicken breasts with the intention of assembling a biscuit-topped chicken/ veg casserole, was well into the process when I realized I didn't have easy makings for the sauce/gravy--no chicken broth or bullion cubes on hand, no canned cream of chicken soup. I tried to extend the broth in which I had cooked the veg, it wasn't quite enough. Shannon assured me it would be okay.

We ate it, and it was hot and tasty, but needed more sauce.

Putting things away in the pantry later I discovered a 4-pack of chicken soup--in plain sight on top of tomato soup cans.

Perhaps these small 'idiot' moments keep us humble!

Why  am I relating all this trivia? Because I realized that being more or less house-bound I'm losing track of what day it is and the mundane recital keeps me better in touch.

I finished stitching on the much-maligned wall hanging this evening. [With help from Thimble-cat.]

I'm not proud of it; my attempted hand quilting is not complimentary to my careful piecing of the blocks. I will launder it tomorrow and doubtless add a photo to this endless recitation of winter days.

 

January Storm: Day 3

Sun breaking through at noon on Monday

Our electric power went off Sunday evening just before complete darkness fell.

We had expected this would happen and had marveled all day that it had not. There were a few warning flickers then the house settled into dusky twilight. 

Jim took a flashlight, went to the shop and tinkered a bit with the generator before trundling it through the crusty snow to the covered back porch.

Frigid air seeped into the lower level and up through the stairwell as he opened the back door. Within minutes he had done whatever must be done at the breaker box and the refrigerators and freezer were functional. I was delighted to find that we had a few ceiling lights working upstairs as well.

I immediately moved a chair to take advantage of the ceiling LED light near the head of the stairs and went on reading. Jim wasn't sure how many hours the generator would run on a tank of gas and not knowing how long an outage we could expect he turned off the generator after about an hour and a half. 

There went my reading light! 

I fussed about with a big candle, an oil lamp, wondering how folks managed ever to do much after dark. Jim propped up a rectangular LED flashlight so that I could finish my chapter.  Off to bed at a mere 9:30 reminding myself that we were warm and snug, that morning would come.

I woke at midnight with light in my face: the electricity had been restored and the light over my desk was surging through my bedroom door.

Monday morning was grey with snowflakes swirling--not freezing rain!

When I checked the outside temp at 9 a.m. it was 14 F. 

Around noon we began to see breaks in the heavy clouds, the snow had stopped. 

We hardly dared believe the sunshine would prevail but it did, creating blue shadows on snow and almost blinding glitter of ice on every tree and shrub. 

I stepped onto the back porch to record the effects of sun, clouds, ice and snow.

Wind struck me, bitterly cold, and I didn't linger.

Winter-shriveled roses and foxglove poking drearily through the crust of snow.

Looking along the edge of the south ravine.

My cat litter dump is tucked down behind the first rim of trees. 

Although I diligently scooped the litter boxes I didn't slide down to the dumping spot.

Later in the afternoon when the westering sun gilded the treetops.

Almost sundown. 

Willis, blinking in the sun that slanted into the front porch.

The outside cats have had extra treats, offerings of warmed milk, larger helpings of tinned food.

Cold or not, Willis and Sally the two oldsters, can be persnickety. Shelby [aka Crabby-cat] will gobble anything put down in front of her and has to be monitored not to harass Willis and Sally.

I decided to wash the fleece throws that have covered the Amish bentwood rockers that usually sit on the porch. We brought the chairs inside Saturday as they got a thorough soaking from blown-in rain.

The indoor cats sniffed and fussed at the blankets until I decided a washing was needed.

I tossed the laundered blankets into the electric dryer, confidently pushed selection buttons--the dryer didn't start.

Jim and I elbowed each other attempting every known method to get the thing going. It has never before needed a reset after a power outage.

Pushed to the back of my mind were several recent warning signals that the dryer was nearing the end of its 16 years of service: cycles that stopped within minutes of starting or conversely went way past the allotted time.

It was a good unit, a Maytag Bravo sized to handle quilts and blankets easily.

I am very over computerized appliances with 'mother boards' or whatever, chips that are manufactured in China or some such place.

I feared that simple dryers with manual controls were no longer available but found that both Lowes and the local Appliance Store carry in stock at least half a dozen models that have a choice of 3 or 4 cycles and temperatures, with simple dial/knob controls.

Several hours of comparisons online and I've made a list of 3 or 4 to look at once the roads are clear and [hopefully] temperatures have moderated later in the week. These are agreeably priced at under $600.

I regularly peg laundry on the back porch clotheslines, especially bedding; often the items require a 15 minute tumble in the dryer to be completely fluffed and dry.

Meanwhile, the armload of damp cat blankets came upstairs to be draped over chairs and the half wall partitions that frame the stairwell.

Polar fleece dries quickly and the small clean blankets have been folded away until the rocking chairs can be returned to the porch.

The sun warmed the afternoon to 20 F--apparently enough to affect the layer of ice on the roof.

Earlier this evening as the frigid temperatures returned we heard a sudden noise--as though something had landed on the roof. We hurried out, flashlights beaming into the cold darkness, but there was nothing to be seen. 

A friend living at the other end of the county had the same experience and sent us a link explaining 'frost quakes' or 'cryoseisms." It seems many area people have heard these quakes as this storm is going through its various iterations of sleet, freezing rain, snow, quick temperature drops.

Always interesting to learn something new, but I could take fresh knowledge without sudden reverberating 'booms.'

 

Sunday; Storm Day 2

Snow began around noon yesterday [Sabbath/Saturday] with temperatures hovering at 16-18 F.

An email popped in notifying me that a small package had been delivered. Rather reluctantly I hauled on layers of outdoor clothes to trudge to the mailbox which stands where the communal lane touches the main road. Jim decided he might as well go along.

It wasn't a pleasant walk! I had layered a hoodie over a silk turtleneck, a flannel shirt and then topped that with a mid-weight winter jacket. Hood string tightened around my face, a scarf, polar fleece gloves, boots. I was still cold. 

The lane runs along the level of the surrounding land before taking a dip past a small pond. Coming back Jim steered us onto the meadow path. The bare hedgerow trees provided a bit of shelter and as we followed the path along the edge of the north ravine the gentle roll of the meadow cut the worst bite of the wind.

Jim topped up the woodbox, trundled in an extra load of wood, leaving the old wheelbarrow parked to the left of the stove.

This delighted Thimble-cat who immediately began clambering among the lengths of 'limb wood' that remained in the barrow.

We took out extra food and blankets for the the three cats who have shelters on the front porch. We ate curried lentil soup and toast, settled in for the blustery evening.

Sometime during the long night the temperature rose to 32F and the snow became a mixture of sleet and freezing rain. 

There are many power outages in the area and we would be surprised if we get through the next several days with the electric, wifi and landline phone still functioning.

I baked two more foil-wrapped russet potatoes that can be sliced and browned in a cast iron skillet on the wood stove if need be.

Wanting to take advantage of the oven I rummaged a few stray apples from the bottom bin of the fridge, sliced them into a 9 inch square pan, added a handful of golden raisins, a generous coating of brown sugar and cinnamon. The 'crisp' topping is flour, rolled oats and shredded coconut blended with softened butter. The house has taken on that nostalgic and homely smell of apples and spice.

I again pulled on layers of winter clothing and boots to slog out with kitchen waste, then crunched along the edge of the garden for a closer look at the big limb that crashed down from a tree bordering the driveway. I saw it go down and supposed it was torn from one of the black walnut trees that lean over the drive as it edges past the south ravine. The branch came instead from a tulip poplar.

I made cautious rounds with my little camera to document day two of the storm. 

The resulting photos are a study in shades of grey.

The fallen limb; note the distinctive tulip-shaped seed  'cups.' 

Small branches and twigs are strewn along the edges of the south ravine; from a distance I can see there is a similar collection outlined on the lower loop of the path.

Along the edge of the south ravine.

A cedar tree behind the north side of the barn, near where kitchen peelings are dumped.

I leave a rag-tag of flower heads in the rough garden strip thinking that winter birds may relish the seeds.

I think these are coneflowers, the seed heads greatly distorted with ice.

Icy branches of the 'Jane' magnolia. 

Wild onion grows everywhere in clumps, winter hardy, pungent in summer whenever lawns or roadway verges are mowed. The green tuffets stand crisp in the frozen slush.

A thorny rose  in the edge of the south-east wall garden, rose hips like black beads, twigs and leaves rigid with ice.

Lastly, a bit skeptical of the sloping path to the edge of the south ravine, I dutifully carried out cat litter.

Underbrush is dense there--burning bush, wild rose brambles, scruffy beech, all clinging to the hillside--a place where only the possums, the raccoons and rabbits dare to travel.

The icy beech leaves provided the only spot of color in the wintery landscape. 

Jim has made himself a plate with a baked potato, warmed up beef strips in gravy, maple glazed carrots.

The good smell of food is too tempting to ignore!

Hand stitching planned for the afternoon and--if the electricity holds--visits to a new you tube channel I've discovered--a gifted woman living in Scotland who lovingly tends a garden, creates quilts and soft furnishings, repurposes old furniture, organizes her pantry, bakes scones. Moments of peaceful sharing--what's not to enjoy!

My late evening reading is a reacquaintance with the Cadfael mysteries. I take them out every second or third winter to enjoy again Ellis Peters' skillful use of words and the subtle irony with which she invests her characters.

However the storm may be impacting you, I wish you warmth, shelter and safety.

 

Weather Watch

A sunny day on Thursday and Jim decided to tackle another of the damaged trees in the area where a former owner's house [mysteriously] burned. This one, a maple, is the 4th to come down.

The tallest tree in the group is the hickory that is perfectly framed in my bedroom window when my head is on my pillow. 

A smaller beech growing to the left of the hickory was damaged in early summer winds; that one was harvested several weeks ago. 

Shelby-cat and I walked down in the chilly dusk of early evening to have a look at the remains of the maple. Rot had moved a fair way up the trunk.

A fire-damaged hybrid magnolia stands nearby. A portion of it had to be cut away last spring, and I noticed tonight how frail the remainder is looking.

It was 40 F and sunny at mid day. By late afternoon clouds moved in. 

We have a thermometer that registers outdoor and indoor temps. By the time I bundled up and decided to walk up the lane to the mailbox and back around the meadow path it was near freezing. It is now [8 pm. EST] 23 degrees--the temperature fell a degree about every 10 minutes after dark.

The three outdoor/barn cats have been offered extra food.

Jim has made beds for them in several places.

A 'condo' of large rubbermaid bins lined with polar fleece blankets and covered over with heavy rugs is against the inside wall of the front porch. Elderly Sally-cat tucks herself into the lower bin. Willis prefers the lined bin in the unheated greenhouse. A sort of igloo cozied with an old down vest is in the woodshed.

An old wicker settee stands on the covered back porch with various rugs and blankets. Shelby-cat often sleeps there in the daytime, but it is exposed to the cold and wind at night. We're not sure where she beds down as she is not very friendly with the two older cats.

I baked four loaves of bread yesterday, today's focus was a kettle of lentil soup, a pan of brownies and two foil-wrapped baked potatoes.

If our area is impacted with the ice that is forecast we are likely to lose electrical power. With our woodstove we will be warm; although it isn't a kitchen range the flat top can accommodate a skillet, saucepan and kettle.

The baked potatoes can be sliced and fried with onions, the soup reheated. Both pantry and the back basement shelves are stocked with a variety of home-canned and purchased vegetables and fruit. Soup, crackers, cheese, apples, frozen beef strips that Jim likes--we could eat well for many days.

During our Vermont years 'ice storms' so called, often took down power lines leaving us without electricity for several days. That meant well pumps were off and no water coming to the taps. Winter storm warnings sent us filling buckets, pitchers, even the bathtub with water to handle toilet flushing and water for cooking. We're on county water here and it miraculously flows in without electricity. Propane cookstoves were more common there than here in Kentucky where most of us have electric ranges.

Our family are country dwellers and feel blessed to have the skills and experience to deal with snow, ice and cold weather. We have deep pantries, warm boots and winter clothing. 

If the power is off for more than a few hours we have generators to keep the essentials going----refrigerators, freezers, a few lights. 

Severe weather here means the internet will go down--what a deprivation!

I have books, some hand sewing. Jim would miss the endless documentaries he watches when not actually outside working or in his shop.

Church is cancelled. I hope common sense would advise that slithering about on our roads that wind  along the ridges and plunge down into the 'hollers' is not an option.

If frigid weather should prevail for a week I might begin to experience 'cabin fever'

but I'm willing to spend the next few cold days inside, tucked up with a book, the cats and a mug of tea.

I leave you with the photos of my near dusk walk-about.