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.
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.
