Wednesday

Never promise something that is on the high end of the range of possibilities, because if what's delivered is at the low end, the recipient is going to be grossly disappointed.

That's the way I feel about the sky today. You know, that great Midwestern sky that I like to brag about. That same one that has cast a shadow over our landscape for such a long time. The weather people promised it would give us sunshine today.

Bullshit. No sunshine. Just more of the same colorless sky, leading me to proclaim at breakfast...





...you know, it really is quite ugly out there right now.
Ed is shocked. These are not words that I usually apply to our landscape. I backpedal right away: I mean, it's monochromatic. 






That it is. That's the farmette for you,  at dawn, as I step out to set the cheepers free.



(why is it so cold out there?)


It is cooler now, so that our brood hesitates for many hours before making the trek up to the farmhouse.






Never mind. Enough about them. Time to get mobile. It always surprises me how sedentary we become when the landscape isn't to our liking. Put a layer of snow on our terrain and I'm out, camera dangling. Strip it of any color or snow and I turn my back on it.

Today I force myself to head out.

To my daughter's.



(a more accurate rendition of my girl with her girl)


And then downtown to meet a friend for a drink. As I take a brief stroll along a city street (Madison is a city, right?), I think that these early winter weeks are the only time when the city does look better than the countryside.


 



Our seasonal blandness is hardly noticeable in the concrete and asphalt world of urban neighborhoods.





And still, I return home to the farmette with not a small amount of pleasure. In the country, you develop this fortitude -- an attitude of endurance. This drab stuff -- this too shall pass. In the meantime, let's fix a nice pot of winter chili and settle in for a warm evening at home.