Monday - 227th

A young man knocked on our front door today. Masked, keeping to a distance. Since we actually have a front entrance these days (for years, we did not), it now looks like a home with regular inhabitants, as opposed to a crumbling abandoned house with derelict squatters inside. The visitor wanted to encourage us to vote. I waved him on, told him we're done, and thanked him for his effort.

And I had to wonder -- is this what it takes to get people to do their job and vote? You know, to pick legislators and this year -- a president, in exchange for all the government services we readily haul in and protections we make use of as the need and/or age arise? Does it really take the efforts of these earnest young people, who perhaps could be doing something else with their time if people just filled out a request form, got their ballot and voted (or in the alternative, hauled themselves to the polling place to vote)?

Want a way to get yourself really depressed? Take a look how many people of voting age in this country actually do not vote. In 2016 -- more than 43% of eligible voters did not bother to cast a ballot. Mind boggling. I mean, I don't expect our numbers to have been up there with, say, Belgium (according to the Pew Research Center, over 87% of eligible Belgians voted in their general election in 2014), or even Australia (same source, about 79%), but geez, at 55.7% we are at the bottom of the pile in terms of fulfilling our civic duty to participate in this democratic process. Sometimes, I just want to say to nonvoters -- you don't like it? Well now what's your alternative? Because believe me, there are plenty of traumatized people in countries with repressive regimes who wish to high heaven that they could kick their rulers out, only they can't. Not without risking their lives to do it. Here, we just have to give a thumbs up or down by casting that damn vote.

If you haven't done so yet, please, go vote.

There, I've said my piece.

 

It's a cold morning. Bits of snow linger on raspberry leaves and crab apple branches. The cheepers are hiding in the barn when I come out to feed them. I do my morning walk very briskly.

Breakfast in a toasty kitchen. How I love our furnace! (Hear that, furnace? Don't you act up on us this year!)

I have a lot of catch up work to do that requires sitting still for long-ish periods of time, but I do coax Ed out for a neighborhood walk by early afternoon. I need my steps!

For the first time, I'm wearing a cap and mitts. Badly torn up mitts. Beyond repair mitts. Needing to be replaced mitts. E-shopping will have to figure into my day, that's for sure.

It's great fun walking through the new development with Ed. So much of it is a construction site and we comment on all the styles and technical details of building a home, and of course, we pick our favorite solutions to perplexing gradation problem. My FitBit sings with pleasure as we walk up one street, down the next.

Evening: leftovers for supper. It's dark these days when we eat (and for once, that's not a statement about how late we eat). But you know, in less than two months our daylight hours will once again begin to stretch out in a race toward summer. Lots to be grateful for, even as we inch our way closer and closer to winter.