Kentucky Winter

Daffodils were one of the first things I noticed when we viewed this property nearly two years ago and decided to buy the little farm.  That was at the beginning of March and the yellow trumpets were just starting to unfold.  When we returned March 20th, we were met with sprawls of daffs [called March lilies here] spreading across green fields and along roadside ditches.

These stalwart buds were photographed yesterday in the south-facing patch beside the carport.

Today a morning rain persisted half-heartedly through a day that became ever more grey and dismal.

I went out late in the afternoon to empty litter boxes and gather my kindling twigs. The rain was turning to fat squashy snowflakes. 

I have a sinus/head cold [misery!] and was unpleasantly chilled by the time I returned to the house, my wellies leaving damp muddy tracks on the basement stairs as I carried in my twigs.

D. drove up tonight for a visit--chortling that school has been called off for tomorrow.

Admittedly Kentucky roads are narrow and winding, and when they are sheltered by a ridge hulking up to the north, any ice that forms on the roadway is slow to melt.

Still, the near panic with which an inch or two of snow is greeted here is amusing to this family, having spent most of our winters in New England or Wyoming.

I have kept the sliding door shut today, not wanting the damp chill to seep in nor the cats to go in and out with muddy paws.  They have been disgruntled.

M. and G. arrived mid-morning with M's latest culinary triumph--easily the best chocolate chip cookies I've ever had.

Several of them went down very nicely with a mug of tea.

He added dried cherries to Betty Crockers classic recipe.

Willis exercises his privileges as a cat who lives outside but is allowed to saunter in and stay for awhile.

Sometimes he takes over a prominent spot such as the sofa or curls tidily on the hearth rug. He's been known to roost on the shelves above the fridge, hiding cosily behind several large crocks.

I am monitoring his indoor visits quite warily at present.

J. knew that Willis had spent the evening indoors on Friday, but couldn't locate him to put him

outside at bedtime.

Where the canny feline hid, we can't imagine, but there he was was next morning, smugly eating

kibble in the kitchen.

I spent most of my time in the basement room for several days working to finish a quilt, using my laptop in the livingroom for a few brief minutes online.

When I entered this room on Tuesday it had a suspicious 'whiff.'

A cat had 'peed' in the middle of the guest bed!

The puddle had dried, but the odor was unmistakeable.

"But you didn't see Willis do it, " argued G. defending him.

NO--but the only other time we've had misplaced cat pee, Willis had also spent the night in the house.

On that occasion J. woke suddenly and unpleasantly just after daybreak as Willis let fly --down his back.

Enough said!

I have washed a considerable amount of bedding this week--hanging it out to air dry as much as possible, then bundling it into the dryer to finish.

I remade the bed with sheets that smelled of January winds, spreading a quilted coverlet and topping the bed with a favorite smaller quilt--one of the first ones I had machine-quilted at the shop where I eventually became an employee.

I love the muted floral fabrics--very becoming to Mrs. Beasley the Cat.