Monday, January 21, 2013


This quite likely is the coldest day of 2013 (and I mean all the days ahead of us, as well as the earlier ones of this month). Maybe somewhere, on someone's thermometer, the temperature reached the predicted high of 5 F, but I don't thinks so. For most of us, it hovered around 2 F (and believe me, in those ranges, every degree counts).

As usual, I have no reason to complain. We have a faintly sunny breakfast...

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... and after, I attend my (first this year!) warm yoga class... (on the drive over, the landscape shows off its true misty lack of color)...

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... and after, I stay home and work, occasionally folding warm laundry that came out of the hot drier. (In contrast, the Fed Ex lady who delivered a package today, had to be in and out of her van all her working hours and I don't know if you've noticed, but those vans do not retain heat well.)

I apologize to her for imposing this burden of yet another delivery, but she laughs and says that it's not so bad when you layer your clothing. Wisconsin people are so hardy!

Me, I'm contemplating catching Ed's cold. It's not there yet, but it surely is just outside the gates, waiting to get in. Again, I cannot complain. I haven't had much of anything in the past year. I need to pay my dues and isn't it terrific that if I am to have sniffles, it's not happening during my travels. Work can accommodate sniffles.

And so I heat up the chicken soup tonight as much for myself as for Ed and I'm cheered by the insanely blooming geraniums on the sill...

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... and  the lovely iris stalks that a daughter dropped off earlier...

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... and I'm thinking -- life is fine, life is fine. Even if a bit cold just right now. But our  farmhouse is warm. We are warm.

Let me end with a photo of the farmhouse and a line of a poem I heard today. Maybe you heard it too...

We head home: through the gloss of rain or weight
of snow, or the plum blush of dusk, but always—home,
always under one sky, our sky.

                                  ~ (Richard Blanco)

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