"The More It Snows"

Snow on the west meadow as seen through a window screen.

Sunday was cold, 22F. at 8:30 a.m. with a powdering of snow on the ground. 

When I went out to walk about 2:30 in the afternoon the temperature had risen to 1 degree below the freezing mark [32.F.]  I walked the usual two loops around the track, noticing that the sun was being overtaken by steely clouds. Willis and Shelby walked a few yards with me and turned back. By the time I had peeled off layers of outer clothing and glanced at the device on the living room wall which gives both indoor and outdoor readings, cold was taking over. 

Snow began to fall by early evening.

I had turned on the downstairs heat before I went out so went down to rummage out materials for a sewing project. 

I worked downstairs until 10, assisted by several interested cats.

18 degrees F. at 10:45 p.m. and falling snow had settled in for the night.

I woke this morning to the pale whiteness of a snowy landscape.

I found warm boots, a hoodie and down vest to go out with cat litter--a must-do task whatever the weather.

I had thoughts of walking at least one round of the usual path, but trudging as far as the shed below the meadow convinced me that it wasn't a day for being outside. My face ached with cold from that very brief foray.

A bluebird flew slowly past me, fluttered down into the snow before rising to fly into the trees of the south ravine. I worry about the birds in such weather. I've not put out feeders as our outdoor cats are only too willing to stalk any bird unwitting enough to land on rosebush or magnolia. 

I watched for the usual evening visit of the big feral tabby we call Herman. I think he may be staying in one of the bays of the shop during cold weather. He came to the front porch as I was tidying the kitchen after supper. I put out a bowl of milk and the tinned food saved from the housecats earlier 'tea.'

Herman has been stopping by for nearly two years, but will not allow us to touch him. He doesn't run quite as far now when I step onto the porch with food for him. I speak to him quietly, coaxingly and he gazes at me with big eyes, but humans are not on his list of creatures to be trusted. 

Jim requested French toast topped with sauce made from the last of a tray of blueberries and raspberries; The toast used the remainder of a loaf of homemade bread. I fried a few rounds of beef summer sausage to go with. 

Robert-the-cat doesn't care for French toast or maple syrup but was insistent that he needed tidbits of sausage to fortify his innards for the cold.

He and Shelby-cat have pestered day-long--back and forth from one door to the other--in and out; The reasoning of cats seems to be that the weather should be different on each side of the house.

Robert likes to sit on the gravel path beyond the brick landing. He did so after Jim's first sweep of the path and came in with bits of gravel frozen to his furry bloomers.

Jim has used the leaf blower to blow snow out of the path and off the car. 

It would seem that his collection of vehicles and tractors have nudged the 'everyday' car out into the cold!

At 1 a.m. I thought of my Thanksgiving cactus out in the unheated sunroom.

I should have gotten out of bed and moved it to the inner room. 

Several straggling begonias also lodged out there did not fare well--note the one on the right.

The begonias were salvaged from summer planters two years ago, not thrifty and thus no great loss. 

The cactus is definitely chilled but I think not unto death.

With temps projected in the single numbers for the next several nights I am concerned for my butterfly bushes and hibiscus. Frigid weather during the final days of December '22 killed my huge magenta buddleia though the smaller white one was spared to flourish during the past summer. They are fragile things--I've lost three mature ones to Kentucky winters--but so appealing in bloom and covered in butterflies that I continue to replace those lost.

Sewing project finished.

Comfort food produced: beef/veg soup and rolls.

We don't eat much meat; it is more of an ingredient in a dish than an entree.

I have a source for organic lean ground beef in frozen 1 lb packages, and keep several in the freezer for soup or a casserole. 

Wood brought in by Jim to feed the stove. On these cold nights we set the mini-split to come on if the temperature in the main living area drops below 70. 

Plans to celebrate two birthdays tomorrow [Jim's January 16, Gina's January 17] weather permitting.

Jim scoffs at driving in snow.

Having lived most of our lives in New England and then 12 years in Wyoming before retiring in Kentucky, we think snowy roads can be handled--with caution.

Winnie-the-Pooh's winter chant has been in my head today; I grew up with 'Pooh' before Disney corrupted him!

THE MORE IT SNOWS, A.A. MILNE

The more it

SNOWS-tiddely-pom,

The more it

GOES-tiddely-pom

The more it

GOES-tiddely-pom

On

Snowing.

  

And nobody

KNOWS-tiddely-pom,

How cold my

TOES-tiddely-pom

How cold my

TOES-tiddely-pom

Are

Growing.