Emerging [Maybe] From Hibernation

The 4th day with sunshine! Now, at 6:40 P.M. there is still a hint of daylight remaining and 51 F.

Looking back at the notations on my January calendar page, I see  there were days when the sun shone and temperatures rose above the freezing mark, but the general effect was one of lingering grey skies, cold rain, snow, chilly wind, weather that didn't lure me outdoors except for necessary chores. 

January days slid one into another, the quotidian round seldom varying.

We had a Sunday meal to honor the three family members with January birthdays.

Jim kept the wood fire burning; we are grateful for its steady warmth, in spite of the film of fine dust it creates and the presence of the wood rack, kindling bucket and such which clutter the tiled space behind the stove.

Meals have been simple hearty food, breakfast eaten mid-morning, a second meal in late afternoon.

Sycamore/buttonwood tree standing on the edge of the north ravine.

It was inspiring yesterday to pull on my tall wellies and stomp about the perimeter of the fields with my camera.

Looking into treetops near the north ravine.

February 1st was sunny and by afternoon the temperature reached 60F. 

I celebrated the mild day by pruning the tangled mounds of nepeta that edge the east retaining wall garden--something of a mistake as I quickly remembered that nepeta does unpleasant things to my sinuses. I also trimmed the clump of red valerian on the west wall revealing this heart-shaped rock discovered and placed there two seasons ago.

Dandelions survived snow, freezing rain and cold to bloom on the south side of the barn, near the greenhouse.

Cold weather inspires baking--bread made with a combination of white whole wheat and unbleached white flour.

I hadn't intended making cinnamon rolls but Jim asked for them.

The cats have been disgruntled with inclement weather. I made up my bed with this heavy quilt of flower-patterned fabric, then had to put other blankets on top in an almost futile attempt to collect cat hair. 

Sunrise on a snow covered morning.  I'm noticing that the sun now appears farther east on the horizon--when it bothers to rise.

Looking west toward the small barn known as 'the snake shed,' so called for the several snake skins we've found clinging to the rough wooden walls.  Its not a place I like to enter.

Frost on the trees, blue shadows on snow, cold that bites at uncovered skin.

During January I finished piecing this huge quilt top [96 x 110] and today delivered it for the 'pro-stitch' machine quilter to work her magic.  She has more than 100 quilts in the queue.

All the fabrics in this quilt are batiks. The center fabric in rich shades of burgundy, smoky purple, deep blue, was purchased more than a decade ago in Thermopolis, Wyoming. It wasn't possible to 'fussy cut' the individual wildlife images, but in most blocks the creatures are recognizable. 

The quilt is intended for Howard and Dawn to use on the massive lodge-pole bed he constructed in Wyoming.  I think the quilt 'grew' a bit from my original plan. That happens!

With my usual lack of accurate math calculations I ended up with a bounty of 1 1/2" strips left from a project completed about 8 years ago. Discovering the strips during a rummage in various bins and containers I was impressed that they needed to turn into--something.  The strips were cut from good quality yardage and I couldn't bring myself to discard them. Making these simple Rail Fence blocks a few at a time was rather mindless work.  Last week I trimmed them to size, layered them with 'leftovers' of  batting and backing. While I vowed that I would never  attempt another 'quilt-as-you-go' project, I'm fairly determined to find a way to finish a few 'everyday' quilts without paying a machine quilter. It will at least become a quilt that can be spread out for the comfort of the cats!

The month has seemed long and rather dreary. We are weary--and wary--of the news, tired of the threats and uncertainties which lack resolution.  The cost of goods and services continues to rise.  We know we are blessed to own our home and vehicles mortgage-free. We have several nearby venues for frugal shopping, a well-stocked pantry.

I've not been creative this month--beyond the daily house-keeping tasks, I've spent hours reading, online as well as with a book in hand. 

Re-reading the Maisie Dobbs series in anticipation of the next installment coming in March; one of Sharon Kay Penman's massive historical novels which had me looking up the various dynasties of the time. [Reading usually until midnight!]

Background reading for the Bible lesson I facilitate once a month at church; music prepared for the weeks that I am the designated pianist. 

I list these things trying to convince myself that I've not wasted the month.

I continue to enjoy the blogs I follow--and yet, I've made only a few comments.

I've thought of blog posts I could write, thoughts to share, only to draw back into a lethargy that has seen me content to absorb someone else's words rather than making the effort to assemble my own.

Still, in these weeks of semi hibernation there have been joys to cherish: 

the splendor of the Wolf Moon  in all its phases of waxing and waning;  

the Great Blue Heron standing majestically near the icy pond; 

a Pileated Woodpecker bashing noisily on a tree trunk while below four Flickers foraged for any treat uncovered by melting snow. 

One afternoon, hurrying, shivering, on my way back from the mailbox I became aware of strange wittering sounds. Across the pond a group of about a dozen large birds were shuffling through the leaves that had drifted into a narrow hollow. They had the hump-backed shape of guinea fowl--could they have been a group who flew off from captivity [as they are prone to do] to procreate and survive in the wild? Most had the mottled and 'checkered' pattern I associate with such, but several had plumage that presented as a pale grey/white. 

I hoped for a few more minutes to observe them, but a noisy truck turned down the lane and the birds fled up the pasture hill, squawking and muttering, half flying, half bumbling.

So, all these meandering sentences to, if nothing else, fix in my mind the unraveling of an unusually prolonged 'cold spell.' 

I hope to find that with noticeable returning of daylight and warmth I will be energized into creativity.