Snow in Kentucky

Another chilly morning.

I heaved several cats off my feet and struggled out of bed.

Down to the basement to shove wood into the stove, into the kitchen, to start the coffee.

The cats follow me as I open the curtains and raise the blinds at the dining room and living room windows.  The view outside is January-bleak;

the sky is grey and a few snowflakes drift on a horizontal course, never seeming to touch the ground.

I left various garments draped over a chair near the fire last night; now I huddle there in the warmth, pulling on layers in defense of weather which is meant to be colder by afternoon.

Knitted silk undershirt with long sleeves; a scarlet cotton turtleneck jersey, a heavy ribbed sweater with a front zipper; for the bottom layers--black tights, my old flannel-lined Eddie Bauer jeans, thick wool socks.

Jim requests waffles for breakfast.

From the well-stocked shelves in the basement I select a pint jar of blackberries--dark purple juiciness, a reminder of hot summer days.

I serve the waffles with the heated and thickened berry sauce and warmed maple syrup.

Dishes quickly washed, cat litter boxes cleaned, wood in the stove, and off again to the farmhouse.

There was no snow on roads that wind through the hills and hollers of Jim's preferred route to the other end of the county.

It was a surprise to arrive at the junction of routes 76 and 206 and see snow-covered fields and roads in either direction.

We made a left turn and almost immediately were traveling through a 'white-out' of blowing snow.

The Mustard Seed Store sits at the corner of Sander's Ridge--the turning toward the farm.

The snow-covered parking lot sported an array of cars and pick-ups.

Jim turned in and parked.

I followed him into the little store.

The owner and a collection of men sat around the largest table--the one near the wood stove--with an overflow of neighbors in the 'booths.'

The talk was all of weather.

Our nearest neighbor, Jay, had come in from a run to the next county; he serves as a 'taxi' for the Amish community. 

The owner's wife, struggled in the doorway, her dark upswept hair sparkling with snow, arms laden with goods to stock the shelves.

Their son followed, eager to tell of the snow encountered as their big SUV had topped a ridge.

A woman in nursing scrubs poked her head in the door and inquired if the snow was in effect all through the county.

Jim assured her that we had just come through clear roads and she went on her way, reassured.

Having been 'neighborly,' we headed out on the remaining mile or so to the farm.

The wind had shut the main gate into the upper lane, so I clumped through the snow to swing it open and hoist it onto the peg which would hold it in place.

The farmhouse was cold, a day having passed when we couldn't be there. 

The hush of snow lay over the yard.

Feathers of snow drifted from tree branches; here and there a dried leaf was caught on an updraft and sailed past , whirling and spinning.

I had fretted over the lone banty, left behind with his mate when the Millers moved.

The little hen disappeared with no trace after two weeks.

The rooster putters about, pecking at the scraps I toss out for him.

Today he fussed about in the buggy barn, shuffling through the hay on the floor, clenching his toes with the cold.

We took turns bringing in wood and stoking the fire.

It was late afternoon before the house felt warmed through.

I wished we could spend the night.

There were few real glimpses of the sun, more a momentary hint of light behind clouds.

Jim connected more lights; I swept up debris, heated soup for lunch.

Bundled in my warmest outer clothes I walked down the lane to the lower house, prowled among the boxes and bins of belongings stored there.

Willis, Charlie and Willow followed me back into the house, got underfoot, asked to go back out, only to flinch when their paws hit the snow at the edge of the porch.

We banked the fire at 5 o'clock; Jim tucked furniture quilts over the newly installed waterlines which he felt might be vulnerable to the below freezing temperatures that will linger into the weekend.

We drove home through a luminous twilight--clouds of soft peach and  pale saffron against a winter-dark horizon.

At home the rooms were inhospitably chilled, the cats heaped  in front of the dying fire.

At both ends of the day  we deal with a chilly house!

The cats are served their 'tea', the fire is rebuilt,.

Later in the evening I make cocoa, stirring milk, sugar, cocoa powder and vanilla in a saucepan.

Jim stuffs pads of insulation batting in the basement window wells.

Slowly the house warms and bedtime arrives.

Tomorrow we will do it all again.

Earlier in the Week

I awoke around 4 A.M. Sunday morning to the sound of a whining wind.

I lay in the dark, bundled about with quilts and cats, wondering if the sounds were in fact the neighboring farmer's tractor moving the huge bales of hay which line the field west of our boundary.

I padded into the bathroom and twitched aside the curtain to view the back yard. 

In the glow of the yard light, raindrops glistened on the bare twigs of the rose bushes.

Wind moved through the treetops.

It was definitely not a day to get up early.

Several hours later the fitful rain had stopped, but the wind still sang with a wailing tone.

The cats, inspired as always by change in the weather, romped back and forth through the narrow hallway and fell over each other going down the stairs.

Inky-blue clouds piled along the horizon though the low sun struggled to break through.

I took kibble out to the dish on the front porch for the feral cats.

It was too chilly to linger.

We headed to the farm, driving through a landscape of dramatic sun and shadows.

By mid-afternoon Jim had most of the outlets in the kitchen and dining area wired into the main box.

One by one he turned on lamps and flipped switches for sconces and ceiling lights.

Another 'can light' for the kitchen entry area.

The wall sconce is glowing in the alcove where the new curtains have been hung.

The valance, like the full curtains in dining area, is made from a heavy 'homespun' fabric which I purchased on ebay.

The lacey tiers I fashioned from ruffled lace curtains which the late owner of the stone house left behind. [I do love to re-purpose things!]

On Monday we had a few errands before heading to the farm.

Jim had taken forever at the bank [talking!] while I sat in the car waiting.

He did ask if I wanted him to leave the car running, and I said 'No' thinking he would only be a moment.  It was the one time I didn't have my purse and the spare car key with me.

By the time he rather nonchalantly reappeared I was chilled--and silently fuming.

Our next stop was at Tractor Supply--the farm store where I prefer to get pet supplies.

At the entrance door was a display of discounted bulbs.

I felt that an amaryillis would make up for feeling cold and deserted!

I didn't have room for many plants at the yellow house;

the farmhouse has many windows which will be ideal for winter bulbs.

I tucked the amaryllis into the pot which was part of the package and set it on the table in the alcove.

In the basement, I moved all the plants I am wintering inside into the inner basement room.

There are three east-facing windows and the room stays decently warm.

I remembered that the Millers had left a rather shabby washstand in one of the upstairs bedrooms, so began dragging it down for use as a plant table.

Jim heard me thumping down the stairs, marched up and removed the stand from my rather precarious grasp and carted it down the two flights of stairs.

Willis comes from the buggy barn to meet us each morning, as soon as he hears our vehicle crunching up the drive.

He prowls about inside, inspects what we are doing, retires for a nap on the bed.

On Monday he became entranced with the upper kitchen cabinets which at present are minus their doors.

Willis made the rounds of the cabinets, showing a preference for the second shelf in each unit.

He hopped onto the breakfast bar, walked to the end and jumped down.

Padding across the kitchen he again vaulted to the long counter and made his way to the corner cupboard.

There he stayed, posing as job supervisor, until it was time for us to turn out the lights and return 'home' for the night.

He is good natured about being turfed out, shrugging his stripey shoulders and heading off to the small barn to snuggle with his mates in the hay.

A Digging Sort of Day

We were out of the house quite early, , bundled into the truck and headed toward Campbellsville where Jim had arranged to rent a back hoe for the day. Since the rental establishment will be closed for New Year's Day, the machine can be used for a second day with no additional fee.

Jim unloaded the backhoe at the lower house and came clanking up the lane behind me as I walked.

The backhoe [rather small by comparison with one which J. owned during the years of construction in Wyoming] was needed to dig a trench across the gravel drive between the house and workshop.

The local power company will not install electricity directly into an existing structure--it has to first be installed in an outbuilding and run from there to the house.

This doesn't make much practical sense, but there it is.

[Note the helpful presence of Charlie-Cat who seems to be taking his transfer to the farm in stride.]

The trench has been dug and the heavy power cable laid down encased in conduit. Here it has to be passed through a protective receptacle and fed into the building where it will be 

connected to the main box.

[I assisted by holding onto the free end of the cable, then going inside to keep it in place while J. joined the last jointed sections of conduit where they came out of the trench and up the side of the building.  My one useful deed of the day!]

Filling in and compacting the gravel over the trench.

I have been fretting about the accumulation of horse manure and decaying hay left in the stall at the end of the carriage barn.

I suggested that perhaps the backhoe would be useful in digging that out.

[I did not present the job as something Jim could do, but as a task for the hoe!]

Jim had been complaining that the control 'sticks' on the machine were 'backwards' to any he had used before.  this--and the small area of the stall--made for clumsy working.

After digging out several buckets full, it became apparent that the concrete floor didn't extend into the stall.  Jim has decreed that the clean up can best be finished some day when he has the back blade attached to one of the farm tractors.

I brought the heavy rake and pulled out some of the spoiled hay and manure which had been loosened along the edges of the stall.

It seems to me that this might all become decent compost.

Willis, keeping a wary eye on the machine, was on hand to supervise.

Charlie, prowling along the retaining wall at the edge of the front porch.

Charlie is not reckoned to be be particularly bright--but he is a companionable sort.

In spite of sunshine and a brilliantly blue sky, the air had a chilly bite and I had been outside too much to keep the fire well stoked.

Jim trundled the backhoe down the lane while I scuffed along behind, beginning to feel tired, hungry and a bit cold.

I watched for a few moments as he began digging a trench to carry the power line which will be installed eventually at the lower house.

The machine stalled and in the lull I asked, "What would you think of having a pizza at The Mustard Seed?'

Jim, tinkering the machine, agreed that was a timely plan.

I trudged up the lane again to return with the van.

The interior of the little store was warm, we were the only customers at the moment, and our pizza was on the table in minutes.

An older man came in, one I recognized as having been in the store the day I was there inquiring for someone who could bury Pebbles the Horse.

Mr. M. got a soda from the cooler in the rear, then lounged nearby, telling tales of his mis-spent youthful escapades on his 'motor-sickle.'

I listened, entranced.

When Jim went to the counter to settle our tab, Mr. M. asked me quietly, 'Did you get Steve out to bury the old horse that day?'

I accepted his question for what it was--a neighborly curiosity for 'the rest of the story.'

Equally quietly, I told him that 'Steve' had taken care of that sad task, but that Jim hadn't much cared to hear the details.

As Jim turned from the cash register, Mr. M. began to tell us of a much-loved coon dog, whom he had insisted be put down gently when her time came.

'And then there's my cat, ' he went on'. 'Got hit by a car recently.  Didn't kill him, but messed up his jaw. I had him to the vet, fixed him up.  I've got 80 dollars in that cat now!'

We left him still telling tales to the lad minding the store.

Back at the lower house the backhoe started agreeably.

I drove up the hill, parked the van and let myself into the dusky kitchen.

I poked up the fire, drew a chair close.

I roused to sweep up a bit of mess on the floor, as Jim came in from the basement entry.

Time to head 'home',' to give the cats their 'tea,' deal with a load of laundry.

One of these days, we'll be sorted out, living at the farm, settling in.

Until then we go back and forth, keeping two houses.

Walking In The Woods

On Tuesday we took an hour off from working in the house and went exploring on the property.

Jim drove the truck along the edge of the cornfield, where we left it to walk along Spruce Pine Creek.

The  slanting winter sun cast long shadows across the water.

The creek has a gravel bottom.

Walking in a westerly direction.

There is a tangle of brush along the bank and above the water.

Jim is contemplating how he can use the tractor and 'bush hog' in the spring to clear the area.

Fungi on a broken tree stump.

Back at the farmhouse we replenished the  fire in the big stove, then set out again, into the woods beyond the carriage barn. I have found the spiky seed balls from a sweet gum tree just past the  first gate. The battered sweet gum tree near the side porch of the Gradyville house was a favorite--I'm glad there is one near our new house.

The creek winds through a long draw with hillsides rearing steeply on either side. There is a logging operation in progress on an adjoining property beyond the high ridge visible at the left side of the photo. As we walked up the stream bank we could hear the whine of chainsaws and the occasional crack and crash of a falling tree.

This little doorway at the base of a tree reminded me of the animal houses in 'Wind in the Willows' or perhaps a home for one of Winne-the Pooh's many friends.

When we turned back toward the house the sun was already disappearing behind the ridge.

Here on the eastern edge of the time zone, the daylight is waning by 3 P. M.

At the gate, the transplanted barn cats were waiting for us. 

Jim decided to follow a track that slants around the hill; one of these days I will explore that route.

For the moment I was happy to go inside, pull the red kettle to the hottest place on the range top and make a mug of tea. 

Farmhouse Renovation, Progress Report

I have been spending my days at the farmhouse, helping Jim in whatever ways I can.

The farm is a 25 minute drive from our current house, by whichever of the several 

possible country roads we take.

It has become routine to have breakfast at 'home', deal with phone calls which need to be made, tend the cats, load up whatever we anticipate needing for the day.

We work until shortly after dark--which admittedly comes early.

Note the heavy-duty extension cord running overhead to the fridge and the big clamp-on light in the open cupboard. There is live power to the shop building a few yards behind the house--Jim has to run temporary power into the house while he installs the permanent wiring.

This is the only approved way to install electricity in an existing house in this area.

Fortunately, Jim has done similarly in new construction and still has miles of heavy cord, the movable lamps, and the skills to go ahead.

We purchased the large black fridge/freezer from an area dealer in second-hand 

furniture and appliances. 

Initially the Millers [the Amish couple who made the property swap with us] suggested that they wouldn't use our 4 year old appliances--the refrigerator, the electric range and the water heater--and that we could remove them from the yellow house.

The timeline for removal became very fuzzy.

It seems that when an Amish couple purchase an "Englisher" house, they are 'allowed' to use the existing modern appliances and the electric for a year--during this time they are meant to convert the home to comply with their non-electric lifestyle.

Thus we might have waited a year to retrieve the appliances. 

[And, I ask you, what woman after having 'modern' conveniences for a year, including a flush toilet and running hot water, would wish to return to a harder way of keeping house?]

It is a rhetorical question, of course, and one that I won't ask!

I have stocked the fridge and the pantry with the basic supplies for making simple meals, taken kettles, my cast iron pans, and utensils.

I heat water in an enameled dish pan on the stove or draw it from the reservoir on the back of the range to do the washing up.

This is a bit of a novelty at present--but my wish for a fairly frugal and simple way of keeping house

 does not run to the primitive!

One of Jim's first priorities was to install a flush toilet in the newly created bathroom space.

Since we are repurposing the cabinetry from our niece's kitchen we've had to configure the units to fit a different floor plan.

I was quite upset when Jim positioned the sink cabinet off-center to the windows!

The wretched man didn't mention that this wasn't the final arrangement, but allowed me to stew over this for a week!

Having gotten several other tasks settled he turned his attention to the kitchen; after considerable measuring and shoving things about we have devised a workable arrangement which utilizes the countertop with only one end piece needing to be cut off.

The sink is centered under one of the two windows--and with that I must be content. 

We have moved Howard's table and chairs into the alcove to the left of the kitchen range.

This makes a cozy place to eat our lunch.

I have brought some magazines and writing materials for the times when I have a moment to sit with a mug of tea.

At home in the evenings, I've been stitching curtains--which will have to be taken down when we are ready to paint.

December 17th was a mild and sunny day.

I found excuses to go outside and explore.

We are delighted to have some acreage that is wooded.

Common sense suggests that at this point in my life I don't 'take off' on my own in unfamiliar territory.

My sense of direction is nearly non-existent--and the hills are steeper than my photos indicate. 

A dizzying glimpse of blue sky.

Willow, the very timid cat, has adjusted well to life in the small barn.

She follows me about, seems less anxious--perhaps because the 'boy cats' are not in attendance.

Sadly, we have still seen nothing of Sally-Cat.

I have hoped she was being shy, hiding in the brush arbor made by a fallen tree just below the gate.

Her sister Sadie, and Willow, both spend time in the hollow under the pile of branches, often appearing from there when I go out.

I ponder why one cat of four would wander away in a new place.

Was she frightened away--killed by a predator?

The banty hen left behind by the Millers has also disappeared, leaving the rooster to fuss about alone.

It troubles me that any animal in my care should come to a bad end.

It is one of those times when I wish animals could talk--no doubt the other cats 

know what has happened. 

We do what we can for these strays that wandered into our space--spay/neuter, basic care in terms of food, shelter, flea preventative, wormer.

We can't assure them a long life.

 The unexpected acquisition of the farm property--when we had barely finished another renovation--and the decision to make our home there at the eastern end of the county, is exciting for us.

It is also a time which is stretching my physical stamina to do what needs to be accomplished to keep two houses.

While I enjoy reading about building and renovating projects, perhaps I will become tedious if I share updates of our progress.

I long for time to once again read and write creatively--surely we will eventually sort ourselves and establish and new and calmer 'normal!'

Willis in Charge

Willis and the 'girl' barn cats--Sadie, Sally, and Willow--spent about 5 days in the washroom/entry of the Pellyton farm house 'acclimating.' 

I have read that it takes a few days for a cat's internal mechanism to 'reset' in a new place, so I never let a cat outside for nearly a week when we move them.

It was a gloomy week weather-wise, so not much sun shone through the washroom windows.

The girl cats huddled on a shelf and Willis fussed about.

On Sunday--a bright, crisp day, we carried them out to the small three-sided barn where Jim had constructed a fortress of hay bales.

The cats could hop inside and be protected from cold and wind.

I dragged out a small stand which was left behind by the previous owners.

I spread an old rug on top and set a big dish of kibble there.

The small kibble dispenser and 2 water bowls are on the floor alongside.

The girl cats burrowed into the house of bales and couldn't be coaxed out.

Willis vaulted into the rafters and paraded along the narrow edges.

He found a 'platform' of sorts formed by a half sheet of OSB [fiberboard] which was laid across the rafters toward the front of the barn.

When we went up on Monday morning, he was up above viewing his new kingdom.

The girls were not to be seen although faint mews from inside the hay were heard.

Willis has had house privileges in the past, but his house manners are not reliable.

In the course of our work day he had to be firmly put outside several times--only to whisk through the door whenever we entered with an armload of wood.

He quickly gravitated to the rug in front of the wood stove.

We were away for 2 days--in Tennessee picking up the kitchen and bathroom cabinetry which our niece had removed for replacement.

When we returned on Thursday and trundled in with the loaded trailer, Willis flung himself at the door.  He got underfoot as we moved in the cabinets, sniffing at each as it was deposited in the kitchen. As the warmth from the freshly kindled fire seeped through the house, Willis made himself a bed on a blanket in the living room.

He wasn't pleased when we turfed him out when we left for the day.

Today--Friday--was another sunny day.

Willis appeared, tail in the air, as soon as he heard the truck lumbering up the drive. 

I made a fire while Jim carried in tools.

I headed for the barn, trailed by Willis.

Today Willow was eager to come out of the hay house and twine about my ankles.

I opened the gate into the wooded area beyond the barn and set about collecting dry twigs to store as 

fire starters.

Although we had repeatedly called all the cats by name, there had been no sign of Sadie or Sally.

I began to believe that they had run away.

There is a large uprooted tree a short way from the barn--a sprawl of roots, a thicket of branches.

Sadie emerged from the heap of branches, marched along the fallen trunk, meowing in greeting.  She rubbed against me, purring loudly.

When Jim came out she made a production of greeting him also.

We feel certain that Sally is lurking in the twiggy hide-away--safe and well, but reluctant to 

come out.

[It was Sally who declined to present herself when I moved the other barn cats to this house--the interim stay on their journey of relocation, necessitating 3 tries to locate her!]

I feel that the barn cats are at least as safe in their new location as during their 4 year tenure at the Gradyville property.

They have a barn, acres of land at the end of our lane, they have a sure supply of food and water, and our company nearly every day as we work at refurbishing the house.

When we drove away today we noted that Willis--apparently resigned to being put out of the house--had stationed himself on the south-facing side of the barn.

He lay with his paws neatly tucked in front of him, eyes half-closed, face turned up to the low slanting rays of the sun.

For 'barn cats' these four felines have a fairly luxurious lifestyle!

Bleak

A full week of grey weather--noon looking nearly the same in terms of the absence of light as at daybreak or at evening.

The air has been thick with moisture--a mizzle-drizzle, fog, sometimes accelerating to a quarter hour of pelting cold rain.

Even on overcast mornings the backyard is busy with birds.

We have several varieties of woodpeckers who drill into dead branches --or into the yard-light post.

This is a red-bellied woodpecker--a strange name for a bird whose red coloring is displayed on his head. The markings of the back feathers resemble its larger cousin, the flicker.

Blue jays hoot and dive, prodding at the pecans which litter the ground beneath the tree.

The gentle and beautiful cardinals bounce over the ground.

Always there are sparrows.

I chopped down sunflowers on one of the last bright days in November, working only part way up the row before it was time to come inside and prepare lunch.

Although the standing sunflower stalks are untidy, the finches are happy to alight and 

pluck out the seeds.

Bird-watching, greeting the day, assuring that I am out of bed in a timely way, consumes a good deal of feline energy first thing in the morning.

It is necessary to crash on a bed for a mid-morning nap.

The hitching rail at the Mustard Seed Store--to accommodate Amish customers. 

I had plans--a mental list of 'things to do' during this week with Jim away.

Most of my plans were shoved aside by necessary tasks.

A house showing appointment has been arranged for early on Sunday afternoon.

I decided that various oddments would be best moved to the Pellyton farm rather than trying to tidy around them.

I spent several hours sorting the dozens of CD's which have lived in an old dresser.

Some went into a box for the charity shop, most were arranged in plastic storage boxes.

I removed the drawers one by one from the dresser, hauled it out to the garage/entry, freeing up space in the guest room.

The boxes, along with other items, went into the van.

I stopped at the courthouse before heading to the farm on Monday, needing to inquire why we hadn't received a property tax billing.

This inquiry used up over an hour as I traipsed to various offices, gave addresses of past and present property and finally succeeded in handing over a fairly large amount to satisfy our obligations.

At the farm, I found Pebbles the Horse in a poor way.

She has had so many bad turns during the past two years, has rallied, even been coaxed into sometimes swallowing her Cushings  meds.

Her condition has deteriorated swiftly this autumn and I begged Jim to put her down rather than move her. For whatever reason, he couldn't bring himself to do that.

My heart ached for the elderly mare as she lurched down the hill, whickering to me in greeting.

I ranted aloud my protests that she should have come to this.

I refilled the manger with hay--hoped that she would be sensible and stay in the big stall out of the wet, but by the time I had unloaded the van and drove back down the lane she was out on the 

hillside again.

It was not a surprise to find her down on Wednesday morning.

Mose Miller was at the farm before me with a 'driver' loading yet more of the machinery and tools from the lower leather shop.

"I thought the horse was dead when I got here," he told me.

Mose had taken hay to where Pebs had fallen near the fence.

She couldn't get up, but raised her head to snatch at wisps of the hay.

I knew what needed to be done--but how?

The details are too harrowing to write--too painful for an animal lover to read.

Mose sent me to a compassionate neighbor who came and with quiet kindness ended the life of the old horse. I sat on the ground, holding her head and stroking her face, until this fine gentleman asked me to go to the house and wait until it was over.

Several men at the Mustard Seed rallied round, helped me contact yet another area man with a backhoe.

Arrangements were made to bury Pebbles there in the pasture, her last home.

The man, Steve, phoned me next morning when it was done to let me know that he had accomplished the task 

'with respect for the animal.'

It was a difficult and exhausting day--made bearable by the kindness and practical help of our new neighbors.

A last sad footnote on returning 'home' was the discovery of Mamma Hiss-Hiss, the feral cat we've been feeding, lying dead in the road.

 I slept little that night, beset by gruesome images--wondering how those who endure the blood and horror of war are ever able to sleep again!

I was back at the farm again this morning.

Did I mention that along with various and sundry household plunder I conveyed the four barn cats to the farm on Wednesday.

I installed them in the back entry/washroom with a big bowl of kibble, two bowls of water--and a litter box. 

I dragged in two small wooden stands left behind by the Millers and positioned them under windows so that the cats could look out at their new world.

Willis dealt with this move with his usual aplomb; the girl cats huddled in distress on a shelf.

On Monday I will let them out to explore the yard and the little barn.

Their internal 'bearings' should have reset by then.

We persuaded Howard that his bits of furniture moved from Wyoming would be safely stored in the farmhouse until he needs them.

He and Jim positioned the table and chairs in the dining area with the hutch on the wall at the left.

I took up a checked cloth--and happened to spy a Christmas basket centerpiece in the top of a box I had put in the basement.

I took my red teakettle to place on the warming shelf of the wood range.

Howard's lodgepole bed and the two undistinguished dressers he found after moving here have been set up in the downstairs bedroom.

I brought bedding on Wednesday and later added the quilt.

Jim will begin the work of installing electricity in the house next week.

He has suggested that he may stay there some nights rather than make the 40 mile round trip 

each day.

I paced through the house, upstairs and down--thinking how we may arrange furniture, partition the space to install bathrooms.

Although there was nothing I could do there, no task I could undertake without electric power, I wished I could stay, make a fire in the big black range, listen for the hum of the kettle 

coming to the boil. 

I placed a battery-operated clock on the top shelf of the hutch, unpacked the few bowls and plates I had brought with me.

Next week I will locate mugs, bring teabags and instant coffee, perhaps some canned soup and a box of crackers to place on the pantry shelves.

I want to live in this house, learn how the sun shines through the windows in all seasons; 

Reluctantly, I said goodby to the barn cats, assured them I would return.

Down the basement stairs and out under the sun room, to stand for a moment looking 

into the misty woods. 

Looking north toward the carriage shed.

"Home" again, tires swishing on wet pavement--adjusting the windshield wipers to deal with varying amounts of rain. 

Home to make up the wood fire in the basement, trundle the vacuum cleaner about, tidy the 

laundry room.

The cats reminded me it was time for their 'tea'--milling about as I took an apple pie from the freezer and popped it in the oven.

I peeled potatoes, sliced celery and onion, made a cheese sauce for a hearty casserole.

The boy cats jumped into the sink, forked potato peelings out of my waste bucket.

Expectant feline faces, cats sitting in a row--waiting.

'Right,' I announced.  "We'll all have our 'tea!'

I switched on the electric kettle, took down a mug.

Out with the cat dishes, snap the top from the tin of fish-y food.

Dole out dollops of cat food, referee so that the greedy ones don't push aside the slower eaters.

Tea and a grilled cheese sandwich for me; a few minutes spent planning for new curtains, measuring fabric, plotting how to make that bought for three windows suffice for four at the farmhouse.

A long week--weather that does nothing to lift a weary heart or restore a tired body.

An exchange of 'messages' with my sister, a phone call from Howard.

A glance around at what I have accomplished to make the house presentable.

The sound of rain beating down outside. 

Nellie-Cat pads down the hallway, reminding me that it is late and time for bed.

Jim will be home tomorrow evening.

We will get through the house showing on Sunday.

Next week work can begin on the farmhouse.

We will build a fire in the black range and the kettle will hum.

Perhaps the sun will shine!

Pebbles in Wyoming