Blustery and Bleak

A cold wind blustered in during the night, slamming the camper with noisy gusts that tore at the canvas awning, eventually tearing one edge from the metal supporting arms. 

Sleep was impossible. The camper shuddered slightly with each burst of wind, tree branches rattled and creaked, seeming too close. At such times I am very aware that the camper is a mere shell between us and the elements.

We clambered out of bed, Jim to wrestle unsuccessfully with the wildly flapping awning, then to fire up his laptop for a look at the doplar weather map.

I swaddled myself in my long down robe [thankful that I didn't after all bundle it into the charity shop donation box!]   I sat for awhile in the dimly lit living area of the camper, after Jim, stoically ignoring the boisterous wind, retreated to bed.

When I followed him, it took a long time for me to fall asleep again. The large red numerals on the digital clock stood at 4:28 when I last noted them.

We gave up on bed about 2 hours later, rising in the grey and blowy dawn.

The boy cats ventured outside as usual, only to return moments later with damp, wind-ruffled fur. 

I was making the bed with clean flannel sheets when Bobby Mac flung himself in the middle of it, insisting that he needed to burrow in.

The men, thwarted in their plan to pour concrete for the front porch, roared off  to a hardware store and lumber yard.

I had another chiropractic appointment--an on-going effort to correct the damage I recently inflicted on my back.  Fine needles of icy rain pinged against the car's windshield. The thermometer on the dash display reported the outside temperature at a degree above freezing.

I didn't linger in town after my appointment--I'd had a wait although there was only one patient ahead of me.

The car needed gas, so I slowed as I approached the little corner store and cafe at the turning to the ridge road. 

There was no mistaking the red Dodge with trailer attached that sat parked at one end of the lot!

I stood at the antiquated gas pump, hair whipping into my face, as gasoline hissed into the tank while the arthritic numbers on the gas pump's dial clicked noisily to mark the sale.

The teenage son of the owners was hoisting sacks of grain and chicken feed onto a pallet outside the store.

"I'm going to move the car away from the pumps," I assured him.

He gave me a laconic grin and replied, "Your husband is eating breakfast inside--he could pay for the gas!"

I chatted for a few moments at the store, then drove up the ridge.  The flag was still up on the post box although it was almost noon. 

In the camper, I made myself a mug of tea and cut a slice of Dawn's delicious carrot cake.

The wind continued, a steady low howl from the west, stripping leaves from the horizontal branches I watch from my improvised desk. 

Jim stomped in to make phone calls, then back out to cobble repairs to the awning frame.

I was cautioned to stay by the phone [as if I was intending to go out!] and then walk up to the house to deliver the price quotes Jim was expecting.

When the phone call came, I pulled on boots, two layers of hoodies and gloves.

The lane in front of the building site is greasy with churned mud--an expanse to be cautiously negotiated before reaching the apron of crushed rock nearer the house.

A fire in the new wood stove was doing little to combat the chill of the un-insulated building.

My message delivered, I dithered in front of the stove, wondering if I had the stamina to hike out to the road and check the mailbox.

In the end I decided I shouldn't be wimpish and braved the gale.

A newspaper flyer was the sole prize to be collected--at least it served as a wind deflector on the return walk.

I've been noticing this spray of crimson leaves a few yards beyond the lane just below the house.

The bark as well as the shape and color of the leaves suggest a 'burning bush' perhaps springing from seeds dropped by a bird.

I put away the camera, fingers clumsy and freezing, trudged back to the warmth of the camper. Closing the curtains against the deepening gloom and chill of late afternoon, I settled to ponder the kitchen plan.

I expect another session with the kitchen designer later in the week. 

Hopefully a blending of good ideas will result!