two sides

It's funny how things align themselves sometimes. You think you're going to slide off the road in a snowstorm and instead you bang yourself falling off a high stool which you scaled clumsily in pursuit of a box elder beetle that was making its way across the bathroom ceiling. (Thank goodness for shower curtains which, though easy to tear down as you reach for them, do break a fall.)

I'm cautious on the roads. Obviously less so when I chase box elder beetles.

But that's not what I am thinking of when I start this post. My mind is on the photos of the day: they have an funny pattern to them. I don't read much into this (signs, astrology -- it's all silly), but still, it's interesting to observe.

For example, sunrise. I wake up to it because Isis now likes to do sun salutations every morning at around that time. And at my age, anything wakes you. Anything.

I look out. The sky looks pretty. Should I? I should. Out comes the camera, on goes the coat.

Oh my goodness. Minus 7 F. It takes your breath away.

Still, it is a beautiful morning. But I do not linger. I give you two photos from that quick venture into the world of Arctic air. Sunrise, from one side of the grand old willow.





And then, curiously, one from the other. On my retreat back to the farmhouse.






Indoors, a smarter than me cat is sitting in his usual morning perch -- on the corner of Ed's night table. Isis takes in his sunshine wisely, without the bite of cold air.






I tell him to look at me and he obliges, moving to another corner. Here he is, posing.






Alright, breakfast. There is no question but that we'll eat it in the sun room. I mean, of course! Outside, the world is white and blue and beautiful to observe.






Inside, we have a variation on the breakfast foods. Step aside oatmeal, it's granola time!






Fine, but my favorite breakfast shot will always have a human dimension to it. Here's the human giving his dimension.






After, I work for a while at home. Ed goes off to a meeting, using the Ford pickup this time because the Geo right now is in such a troubled state that even he wont drive it. It takes Ed a while to decide to trash something that still has some moving parts to it and so I expect we'll be looking at the Geo for a few more weeks before he finally admits that it is beyond repair.

Eventually I leave for campus. I encourage (meaning push) Isis to go outside now. He is not happy about that.






Sorry, Isis. I gotta go.

I have my donkey car to use for work today. The doors on it are sealed shut as well, but at least with some combination of hair dryer and crawling in to bang from the inside, we (okay, Ed) manage to get things swinging again.

I hadn't used the car since before the storm and I now I have to pull over twice to clear off some of the offending snow. Even as I think the donkey car looks far better with snow on top: it covers up two of the car's fatal (visually speaking) flaws: the taped together cardboard front fender and the absence of any back fender. You can't tell, can you?





Inside, the car is so cold that ice crystals remain in place on the windshield for the duration of the ride in. Pretty, in a chilling sort of way.






You may fault this day for being too cold. Fine. I agree. Anything that hovers around 0 F is on the chillier side of alright.

And yet... the sun was out. February came in with a smile.