First Week of January/ A Mid-Winter Journal

White frost and 28 F on January 3rd. 

The sun appeared for a few minutes that mid-morning prompting me to start a wash of bed linens. I pegged the first load of sheets on the line as the fickle sun retreated behind scowling clouds. The next load went into the dryer; by early afternoon I conceded that it wasn't a 'drying day.' 

Encouraging patches of blue sky are quickly obscured by wind-driven clouds laden with moisture that produces spatters of cold rain or brief flurries of wet snowflakes.

We have continued our discipline of walking the path that loops around both upper and lower meadows;  I say 'we' but there are days when Jim has immersed himself in projects in the shop; if he walks with me, he often accuses me of 'cutting corners' as I tend to avoid the sections of the path that are most heavily strewn with black walnuts and hickory nuts. To make up for this I've started including the triangle of ground that lies along the south fence boundary.

One or more of the cats often walks part way. Willis has his favorite sections of the route. He stumps halfway up the east meadow path, then plants himself until we have come down the other side and into the drive; if he is feeling spritely he may follow us around the lower meadow. Robert, always a law unto himself, may grace us with his company before being lured into the fringe of the north ravine where he hopes he might encounter an unwary grey squirrel. 

Shelby-cat romps ahead, flinging herself down to roll in front of my feet, then flouncing off with tail inflated, fur bristling along her bony spine.

The path bordering the north ravine. 

Jim stops to ponder what dead trees might be harvested for fire wood. His persistent mowing and cutting brush keeps the wild growth from encroaching into the meadow.

It has been a challenge some days to walk when the wind has a cold bite. On days when the ground is wet my feet shuck about in rubber boots and I can feel the lumps of the black walnuts through the thin soles. 

Some of the bleak mostly sunless days have ended with an encouraging sunset.

The setting sun rides low over the south ravine disappearing before it reaches due west.

31 F. at 8 a.m. this morning and the sun just appearing;  the sky, patterned with contrails, quickly gains a robust blue.

 A mid-winter morning that ushered in  ALL DAY Sunshine!

There were sharp teeth in the wind. I would describe my walkabout as 'invigorating'--my pace was a bit slower than usual. I was well bundled in down jacket, fluffy scarf and fleece gloves, but the warmth of the house was welcome when I came in to prepare dinner.

At this point mealtimes are very flexible. Usually we have one 'big meal' per day, sometimes before noon, other times after. Today I offered a simple salad, mashed potato, pan-fried salmon garnished with lemon slices and fresh rosemary.

There is usually homemade soup or the remains of a casserole in the fridge, homemade bread for sandwiches, a ready assortment of crackers, Cabot cheese. Neither of us likes an evening meal, so we each assemble what we want late in the afternoon.

On Thursday we moved the bookcase which Jim built for me into the house so that I could begin painting. Jim strapped it onto a dolly and I kept it balanced while it was trundled up the front steps and eased around two doorways into the sunroom. 

Opening the connecting doors warms the room enough to paint by afternoon; the little room catches the afternoon sun, so working in there today was especially pleasant.

I delayed starting this project as I hadn't decided how I wanted  to proceed. 

By Thursday I had decided on a light taupe paint, 'Quiet Zone' for the interior. I now have a first coat of a favorite Clark and Kensington color, 'Autumn Apples' on the exterior. I will probably apply another coat of the dark red, then dry brush with 'Cannonball Black.' 

I've used this technique in the past when refinishing vintage pieces, or painting the peg racks Jim has created. 

These deep colors blend well with the vintage tools that we have collected, and compliment my quilts, cushions and curtains. 

Rosie-cat likes to help with my various projects. I had to send her out of the sunroom while I painted. 

She has offered her assistance with my recent sewing efforts and regularly lands on my desk or Jim's when we are working. I would like to blame the untidiness of my desk on the cats who join me there; they do often shuffle items around, but most of the mess is mine. Too many projects, too many papers.

Behind Rosie, is Robert's face, larger than life, as my screen saver. 

Two books finished in my late night reading: 'My World Is An Island' a humorous account of Elisabeth  Ogilvie's life on Gay's Island, Maine. I reread her Bennett's Island fiction series every other year, delighting in her rich descriptions of New England seasons. Reading the non-fiction account I discovered the inspiration for many of the characters and incidents which enlivened her fiction.

The second book finished is 'Random Passage' by Canadian author Bernice Morgan. One of the blurbs on the book cover describes this historical novel as 'tremendously evocative of the early history of Newfoundland.' It was a compelling enough read that I've now acquired the sequel, 'Waiting For Time.'

With sewing, painting, reading, and walking, and with the companionship of the cats, surely January's sometimes bleak mid-winter will pass.