beads of frost

Frosty morning. I admire flowers that hang in there. They are few and far between. This is the tail end -- no more pinks and reds, frosted or otherwise, until next spring.





I’m working at home today. I watch the sun move from one end of the farmhouse to the other, I listen to the sounds outside. Isis comes in, Isis goes out. Ed’s at Tormach, doing his Friday Tormach thing. Work, work. Can I pause now for lunch? For coffee? Work, work.

The sun is definitely more to the west than to the east now. Ed calls. Done! Meet me at the café in an hour.

I walk to the Oasis. It’s not a beautiful walk – mostly along county roads and more busy rural connecting roads, but I want to move. The "work, work" thing has made me feel stale and stagnant. Three miles. One hour. Pick me up on the road when you pass! I tell Ed.

He’s late. I walk, on and on. But it’s okay! On a day when the sun is out and the frost has long melted, walking’s good, walking’s calming, walking’s revealing.





Finally, we’re at the café. Not for long. Enough for Ed to lose his socks, lose his credit card – all that. But I have a date with my daughter downtown and so I must get going. A burger night.






An evening to think about something other than work and farmhouse living. A city night. Over a medium rare patty at Graze. Mmmmm