waking up to snow

What? Where did this come from??



(outside my bedroom window)


Oh, it’s pretty alright. The kind of scene which, in early December, would be dubbed – winter wonderland. No one’s using those words now.


We’re up and about early. I have classes, but I have one last coat of varnish to smear on three frames at the farmhouse.

We stop by Home Depot (opens at 6!) and Ed picks up yet another batch of electrical boxes and switches – for the rooms that haven’t the grounded outlets (they need GFC interrupters). He tells me the national standards are clearly spelled out – on 7000 pages. But, with Google, you can zero in on what you need to do in your particular space. I’m not fooled. He can. He has buried wires, built sheep sheds and designed machines. I can’t. There are many things you can easily pick up at the age of 57.85. Wiring an old house is probably not one of them.

The drive to the farmhouse is stunning. A near-spring wonderland!





Inside, the farmhouse looks fantastic! I can see through the rips and tears. I note the new steps emerging, and walls receiving their final patching and, upstairs, stretches of sheetrock.





It’s hard to tear myself away. Especially since I wont be returning here for at least ten days – I have heavy teaching on both ends of a week away.

One last glance, toward the sheep shed...





...at the farmhouse...





...and I’m off to campus. The snow is wet, too heavy to cling to wispy branches for long. Last big snow of the season. Maybe.