The weather forecast for Sunday, 16 January was bleak enough that we cancelled plans for a family meal to honor three January birthdays.
Early morning was grey and chilly, but it was nearly noon before snow began to slant down in icy needles that soon became a thick screen of fast-falling flakes.
Within a short time the surface of the lane, the shed roof, the west wall, were white-coated; the grass was crisp and icy underfoot.
Snow fell throughout the murky day and into the night. The temperature lodged at 28 F. Necessary trips to tend the cat litter box and carry out compost needed boots, hood and gloves.
At bedtime I opened my west window to the scent of snow and wood smoke on frigid air. I lowered the sash to a scant half inch--and fell asleep listening to the faint whine of wind humming past that narrow crack.
By Monday morning it was 4 degrees colder. A few thin flakes of icy snow floated down in desultory fashion.
The cats by Monday were fractious--demanding to go out, picking a distasteful way along the swept path leading from doorstep to woodshed, then returning to huddle by the door until fetched inside.
It is Elmo-the kitten's first winter--he plunges bravely through the snow-crusted strip of garden below the porch, flounders back to the relative shelter of the porch; within 15 minutes of warming his paws inside he wants out again, seemingly surprised that conditions haven't improved.
Rosie-kitten does not venture outside. A 'just right' box for a snug nap.
Rosie wakes, ready to roister about when humans are considering bedtime.
Tuesday forenoon and a welcome sun throwing shadows across snow that is dimpling and settling.
J. is invigorated by the improvement in the weather. [Men who have retired from regular work tend to become easily bored!]
He decided to shuffle his tractor collection as noted by photos which went up in random order below.
One tractor refused to start--described as 'touchy'--which meant I was commandeered to drag it with a more reliable tractor--about the yard, up and down the lane, peering over my shoulder to interpret various hand signals. Although frequently called upon to do this over the decades, its not a procedure I enjoy. In this case the tractor did not start in spite of the attention!
The landscape is much improved by sunshine.
Icicles on the north side of the house beginning to melt.
Sally the troll cat, plodding through the softened snow.
J. looking none too appreciative of his birthday meal.
A fresh salad for starters, followed by mashed potato and slivers of steak in a stir-fry.
Pineapple upside-down cake, baked in a cast iron skillet. J.'s favorite, served with whipped cream.
Photos of the tractor shuffle in progress.
Can a man have too many tractors?
I suppose the logical rejoinder is 'Can a woman have too much fabric?'
Possibly so, but I am never bored!
With household tasks out of the way I can turn on the downstairs heat, work on the current quilt--with help from the kittens--and finally end the day with an absorbing book.