Saturday

And again it snows. 

You'd think we would have quite the buildup here. Drifts blocking entryways. Flower tubs lost under heaps of snow. But no. It hasn't been like that. Every day we get another inch, maybe two. Three (today) max. Clean, pretty, but nothing formidable. I suppose you could say that it pleases both sides: those who want snow can't complain. Those who'd rather see clear roads can't fuss. 

Morning walk. Chickens are hiding in far corners of the barn. It's not the snow this time, it's the cold. We're climbing to 18F (-8C) today. They would prefer a milder temp, thank you. And please, without the whipping wind.

It has been a busy winter season and it will continue to be full and lively going forward. But today, my calendar has only one entry on it -- a Zoom chat with a friend who lives far away -- and that's it! Clean slate for the afternoon, clean slate for the evening. 

Well, let's make this day a good one! How about a trip to my usual bakery (Madison Sourdough) for breakfast treats? And here's a stunning development: the head baker there was also nominated for a James Beard award, in the category of "Best Baker!" Well now, don't I have a nose for morning pastries!

Hey Ed, breakfast time! Hurry up! Fresh pastries are getting less fresh by the second!

A day of luxury. And the snow keeps falling, gently. Maybe we'll get as much as four inches. If ever there was a time to do a forest ski run, this is it! Cold (we both were wooly caps) but so very beautiful.

In the late afternoon I am lost to the world with work on some distant trip. I had wanted to do garden planning, but didn't quite get to it. Ideas for the flower fields hatched in January are fantastic: they're totally excessive, unreasonable and farfetched, but at the same time, that crazy ambition always pushes the garden forward a little. I curse my plans and plant purchases from this month while I'm digging come spring time, but in fact, the results are always deeply satisfying. Maybe tomorrow!

I tear myself away from my research to feed the seventh feral cat (called Pancake, I can't remember why) that's been coming around fairly regularly. She's terrified of all humans, but she must be hungry because she is forcing herself to come to the porch with great hopes that we will have left something there for her. If she hears me move, she runs like a speed demon to the other side of town. But she comes back when I retreat. It's a tricky business, because she wont come near the house if some of the other cats are around. But, it's a game we're used to playing: put out food when other cats aren't watching, and when chickens aren't close by and hope that the hungry visitor will get some protein in before anyone else shows up.

In the evening, I bake some fish for the two of us. It feels like I haven't really prepared a solid dinner for a number of days (soup doesn't count). Time to roll up the sleeves and take out the baking pans. 

And so goes an easy day, with nothing planned. Where did the time fly? Incredible, isn't it...