What Have We Done With February?

 

By February 10 the last of the ice had melted off the driveway leaving runnels of water and a few spots slippery with mud.

We had been able to walk cautiously around the upper meadow path for several days. 

Robins were bouncing about the back meadow, picking in the soggy frosted grass for whatever nourishment they could find. 

Weather has been erratic: clouds, drizzles of rain; sun coming through for a few minutes or sometimes for an afternoon. 

I pegged sheets and towels on the back porch lines on two days last week where they flapped nearly dry, needing a few minutes in the dryer to finish.

Deer have left their pointy hoof prints in the softened meadow path.

A pair of bluebirds have been flitting about, several pert little titmice have hopped through the branches of the Susan hybrid magnolia.

I've been squirrel watching, though have not been able to sneak up on them for photos. 

The break in the weather seems to have inspired the squirrels to a house cleaning of their nest cavity in the tree visible from the kitchen window.

One or the other is often visible with face peering out; if I watch for a few minutes there is jostling and pushing until one squirrel exits the tree hole, runs up to a branch that makes a good launch to swing through adjoining bare trees. Several times going out with kitchen scraps I've startled one or both of the pair rummaging about on the ground. 

A heap of broken nut shells, mostly hickory nuts, has appeared at the base of the tree. On one warmer afternoon, a squirrel lolled, eyes shut, forepaws resting on a heap of shucks pushed to the 'door' of the nest, apparently interrupting 'house cleaning' to enjoy a bit of a snooze as the late sun shone onto the tree trunk. 

Like the resident squirrels I was [finally] inspired to tackle a bit of housekeeping that has needed done for months.

The round-about that holds bulk spices, salt, dried herbs in shaker-top containers, and various other cooking essentials had become a terrible muddle. 

I placed a folded fleece blanket on the floor, got down on my protesting knees and hauled everything out. There were some duplicate spice jars, items brought in when others of the family were cooking here, things that were outdated, all of which I ruthlessly confined to the trash.

I hauled myself up to the sink several times to wring out a dishcloth and wipe the shelves, then began gathering similar items into small bins, stacking the bulk spices and jars of cornstarch and such where they can be easily identified. 

That chore done, I struggled to my feet, washed down a Tylenol with a mug of tea, went to the piano to review music for church.

No surprise I woke next day feeling aching and rickety!

The right-hand side of the pantry I keep in reasonably good order; several of the compartmented shelves hold store-bought canned fruit and veg, others are stocked with glass containers of various pasta, grains, dried beans and lentils, rice, dried fruit. As long as I take a few minutes to put things away neatly after shopping, the area stays relatively organized.

The left -hand storage area defeats me. Two very deep shelves take up the space which on the other side of the wall becomes a sort of 'header' over the stairway to the lower level.

I can reach only half way into the space. Two crockpots live there, as well as an unmanageable assortment of plastic containers for leftovers. Pulling out what I need usually results in a tipple and the offending items hurled back in.

I've made some half-hearted searches online for bins or small adjustable shelving to corral the stuff, but have given up without finding a solution.

Part of the top shelf after renovation. Gina brought the wire racks.

Gina to the rescue.

There are still too many plastic containers but they have at least been grouped 'like with like.'

Both Howard and Gina have the gift of tidiness and a need to organize tools and belongings.

Jim and I do not have that asset in any marked degree, although we usually can find our own items when needed. 

I've spent a few minutes on amazon looking at storage options again, need to do some measuring to determine what would fit. An obvious partial solution would be to throw away still more of the plastic food containers. I do use them when sharing food with friends; that way there is no need to care if they are returned or not. 

Thimble--who needs to be 'helpful' with every household project, has been inspired to investigate and rearrange the shelves we've been reorganizing.

Moments ago she 'removed' a box of cereal so that she had ample room to sit on the shelf.

Thimble chose to scurry out of the pantry while I swept up the rice crispies on the floor.

The ones not spilled have been decanted into a Rubbermaid canister with locking lid.

Today, Sunday, has been blustering and cold, barely above freezing, and now at 8 p.m. it is 27 F. Snowflakes have drifted down in desultory fashion, only now clinging to the front porch steps and railings.

I went out early in the day with cat litter, to the porch with food for the outside cats, and at dusk out with kitchen scraps. The NW wind has a mean bite. 

We weren't inspired to walk today; Jim has been watching TV;

I delved into a review of family history.

We've eaten leftover shepherd's pie, tapioca pudding, Granny Smith apples, tea. 

With the colder weather I've not turned on the heat in my downstairs sewing area--Jim shuts the curtains in the big room at night and there haven't been enough sunny days to warm the room and justify the use of the electric mini-split for a mere few hours.

It has seemed a long month what with the cold and icy weather that hung on from the late January storms. The need to take on extra duties at church has meant some dedicated hours at my desk and at the piano. [Thimble-cat enjoys the piano!]

Bedtime reading is the third Cadfael omnibus. 

Jim's month has been more visibly productive than mine.

He felled a maple that had gone shaky at the base and several warmer afternoons gave him opportunity to split the wood, haul it to the woodshed where it is now neatly stacked.

Monday and Wednesday are forecast as 'partly sunny,' nights below freezing, weather moderating to 'showers' by the end of the week. 

Wild daffodils have pushed their green blades through leaf litter in the roadside ditches, the small clump near the south wall here are in tight bud.

Even the overcast days have lengthening evenings, and on the days when I've walked there is a faint scent of something that while not quite spring is less of a winter essence. 

Monday Evening

As I was coming to the end of this post on Sunday evening, the internet went down--and stayed down--until mid-morning today.

We woke to the grey skies that have become overly familiar, and a film of light frosty snow that had gathered overnight.

It was one of the too frequent nights when sleep eluded me, in spite of having read until I was in danger of dropping my book.

Robert-cat was curled on the fleecy throw at the foot of my bed and about 1:30 I was alerted to the retching sounds he makes before hoiking up a hairball. 

I heaved him off the bed, but too late, so lights on and padding about to remove the soiled blanket and wipe up the residue on the floor--after having stepped in it bare-footed!

Robert has had a goodly dose of hairball paste this morning and his long black and white fur brushed.

I needed to pick up a refill of my one prescription medicine in the next town, so asked J. if he wanted to go along and stop at Tractor Supply for cat kibble and litter.

Getting out of the car at the pharmacy and again at TSC the wind had a fiercely cold bite.

Another day when walking would have been a misery rather than a joy.

So, home to a mug of tea, welcome warmth within and to my chilled hands.

I returned to my amazon search for pantry storage containers. chose some, and ordered.

There are too many options to consider--a bit like choosing from the many tints and shades of paint!

 I made cream of tomato soup for supper, using a jar of home-canned tomatoes; we ate it with slices of homemade bread toasted.

Desultory days, small necessary tasks accomplished. 

Jim has watched Lonesome Dove and a video of climbers laboring up Mt. Everest.

I watched Kate of The Last Homely House layering a quilt and pinning it ready for her big-stitch hand quilting.

I've looked at the seeds offered by Prairie Moon Nursery--and googled directions for a greenhouse 14 miles away that I've never visited.

And thus are 'the evenings and the mornings' of these late winter days.

Holed Up For the Duration

hole up

Take refuge or shelter

Tomorrow [Friday] marks two weeks since the beginning  of the winter storm. Precipitation has come in layers: freezing rain/sleet, covered with snow that hid what had settled into a precarious sheet of ice. Tiny pellets of snow, large drifting flakes, below freezing temperatures; I feel that the days have slipped by with a befuddling sameness.

Jim brings in extra wood and the main level of the house is cozy. I go downstairs to do laundry, tend the cats' litter box, rummage items from the chest freezer.

 Jim insists on keeping the curtains closed in the large usually welcoming room where my sewing machines and bookcases live. I walk through the unaccustomed dimness to find a book, to gingerly open the back porch door and peer down the expanse of the lower lane and meadow, hoping for evidence of a thawing that hasn't happened.

I braved the lane to the mailbox on Friday morning, needing to post a payment to the water company. Walking through the meadow wasn't a hazard, but when I reached the point where it joined the lane I was of two minds--whether to continue down the slope, past the pond and up to the road or turn around and retreat to the house.

We've had trouble with the water company insisting that our payments don't reach them in time to prevent a late charge--the previous month's check mailed on December 11th but not arriving in their office in town to be posted until December 22. 

I said a prayer and stepped grimly unto the icy lane. The ice/slush mess on the track had been churned by tires, frozen, glassed over. I was able to step onto the verge, actually gripping the ice encrusted wire fence for balance before I had to trust my feet to the narrow expanse of gravel exposed between the frozen ruts. I had brought a walking stick with me, quite useless as the ice pack was too rigid for the stick to pierce.

I made it back up the lane, down the meadow and into the house without a fall, but with the cautionary note received that until we have a warming thaw I won't chance that expedition again!

Sunday, 1st day of February with a reading of 11 F. at 6 a.m. and good reason to return to the warm nest of my bed until 8. 

15 F. by 10:30 a.m. and the welcome surprise of sun casting blue shadows across the gloss of snow. 

The sun made it warm enough to venture walking, bundled in layers of clothing. We made a loop around the upper meadow, cats picking their dainty way behind us. Tracks of small animals--squirrels, possums, birds, embroidered the snow. I had worried that the resident squirrels, if they could remember where nuts were buried, couldn't dig down through the icy crust to retrieve them. Under the hickories that line the upper edges of the north ravine we noted where tiny busy paws had scrabbled through  snow to access the hickory nuts that have lain on top of fallen leaves. 

We made an abbreviated loop of the back lower meadow finding that walking was more difficult there. My right foot encountered a patch of hidden ice and slipped; I didn't fall but the instinctive move to stay upright gave my back a warning tweak.

Jim decided to go inside, but I was so invigorated by sunshine and blue skies that in spite of the cold air  I pottered back around to observe the accomplishments of the pileated woodpecker who spent the weekend bashing at the small cedar visible from the bathroom window. I made another turn around the upper meadow, watched one of the squirrels dash madly up the tree to pop into the nest hole when the crunch of my boots gave the alert. 

The cookie jar was empty and I was prompted to stir up a batch of oatmeal cookies, lavishing a handful of raisins and an extravagant 10 oz package of chocolate chips in the dough. 

I finished the day with an hour of tiny stitches on the applique` project recently resurrected.

I woke Monday with aching bones, resigned to yet another day of below freezing temperatures and dull grey skies. Jim proposed that we do a bit of grocery shopping at the South Fork discount venues and then go on to Liberty to TSC to stock up on cat kibble and litter. 

Main roads clear once the Honda had carefully negotiated the dip of the lane past the pond. 

The days of this prolonged 'cold spell' continue and we are 'holed up' waiting for thaw and release from ice-encrusted surroundings. 

I read, find interesting channels on you tube, cook [homemade spaghetti sauce for pasta] tend the cats, prod at the over-hanging sheets of ice on the porch roof.

There is something quite satisfying to watch slabs of ice plunge to the ground below!

By this morning I felt caged, hemmed in, but mindful of so many who lack the comforts that sustain our family households.

I recalled stories of 'pioneers' snowed in for days in 'soddy houses' or cramped and drafty log cabins. 

When I worked at the quilt shop in Wyoming, a lovely older lady, Audrey, sometimes brought her sewing machine and spent the afternoon with us. Audrey was raised in Nebraska and captivated us with tales of her family huddled in their small house on long dark evenings, a sofa dragged close to the fire, wearing their coats indoors while the endless wind howled outside and sent frigid drafts through the thin walls and ice formed on the inside of window panes.

I've been with Jim in the semi on Nebraska highways in winter, felt the buffeting of the wind, watched snow scudding across flat fields, noted the small white farmhouses and adjacent barns huddled behind a scanty windbreak of trees. 

Who am to protest from the warmth and relative security of a well insulated home that I am tired of winter!

Jim created a path between front porch and woodshed yesterday--and today announced that we could now walk through the barn wing to where he had broken a track across the edge of the garden.

I layered on warm clothes delighted at the opportunity to WALK!

The usual path that circles the field has iced over so our progress was not a leisurely stroll, but more a stomping plod with boots crunching through the meadow grass. 

No matter--it meant fresh air, stretching our legs, a break in our holed up, housebound days!

Caution is still needed; patches of hidden ice lurk, the eaves of house and barn drip creating puddles that quickly freeze. 

Willis and Shelby left the shelter of the front porch and picked their way daintily across the garden to meet us.

Inside to hot tea and cookies, the fire built up for the evening.

I dare to hope that next week will bring the return of the milder weather we've come to expect of a Kentucky winter.

Thimble 'holed up' in the basket that is her current favorite.

Rosie 'holed up' in a cubicle of the cat tower, where she hopes that Thimble won't challenge her.

Squirrel watching remains a delight. 

During the last few days there has been much jostling and shoving at the entrance to the nest, before one of the pair suddenly pushes his way out to flow down the tree trunk or scamper up to launch from the highest branch.

There are two, one a bit smaller and darker furred than the other.

The pileated woodpecker began his drilling on Saturday and continued in a frenzy through Sunday.

An unintentional duplicate of the above photo.

The small cedar has been ringed with drilling.

The woodpecker seems to have abandoned the project after two days of feverish activity, but it may only be that I've not happened to look out the one window from which his worksite can be viewed.