Tuesday - 326th

I swore to myself that I would not even mention Groundhog Day. I mean, it's one conspiracy theory, isn't it? "I heard somewhere that if a groundhog sees its shadow..." Poor Punxsutawney Phil. His state of Pennsylvania has seen enough spread of disinformation. Now he has to be ripped from his lair to spread another rumor based on nothing, this time about spring. Bleh.

Still, you can't help but think -- this sunshine is something else! We don't start the day with it...

...but it's there soon enough and it is splendid. In all, it's a day to take note of, if only because it is so much finer than what's coming. You don't want to know how cold it will be this weekend. You just don't want to know.  (Hint: if we even get up to 0F, which is about -18C, I'll consider that to be a good thing!)

Breakfast. With him.

And after? I am now fully committed to finishing my writing project, so any outdoor time is pushed to the late afternoon. Why the rush to finish? Oh, I want my freedom back! Writing the book has been like rebuilding a house that has been destroyed by a storm. Everything is wrecked, messed up and in need of repair and you keep hammering away at this corner, then that, but it never gets done because the storm was just too big and your hammer too small. It's time to really patch it up, make it habitable, and move on.

But in the late late afternoon, Ed and I finally do go out -- to our favorite corner of our local park, where the trails aren't groomed, but the space is enormous and beautiful and fun to navigate.

(Ed stops, I stop, we lean on our poles and admire the evening light...)

Later, as I cook up a veggie and bean soup for supper, I have a chance to talk to this little girl:

She always likes to take a peek into my refrigerator ,which regrettably, is never very interesting, except maybe to an almost three year old who thinks a half a mango is just the bees knees. Ah, Primrose...

Night time at the farmhouse. Some cats come in, then go out. Dance watches me munch on cheese puffs, knowing darn well that she'll get her share. The cat loves cheese puffs. Ed and I talk about setting up some heating system to protect the cheepers in the coming Arctic blast. Old quilts, possibly a heater too, one that cant tip over and burn down the barn. 

 

It's quiet here at night. February quiet.