Well, we're in it now-the great Winter hunkering down we go through every year if you live in snow country. It was plus 6 degrees this morning with a stiff north wind. There's 3" of snow on the ground. The holidays are over, I took the ornaments off the tree and put away all the other decorations we set out each year. Now, it's grappling with the cold if you go out, grappling with extra pounds and wishful resolutions. Binge watching TV by the fire with my shrinking family.
Soon, it will be time to plan this year's garden, starting tithonia seed under the grow lights to give them an early bloom time. How early will the crocus bloom? When will the red-winged blackbirds return?
And of course living with the two huge sharks swimming just under the surface of our thoughts ready to maim us further and devour what resilience we have left: the pandemic and the mid-terms in November. Will another variant emerge and this one proves to be much more deadly than it's predecessors? Will the elections mark the slide of our country towards authoritarian rule?
I must be off. Set the bread dough for its final rise. Work on this endeavour and some images for future postings. The sun is out. Molls is curled up on Mom's robe on her bed, sleeping within her soothing scent. Outside, the squirrels are engaged in their energetic pursuits as are usual gang of feathered friends: juncos, cardinals, nuthatches, titmice, lil' woody. All are trying to find food. Mr Big Bun is seen at twilight, eating the tops of grass and going after the bark of the shrubs. A couple of evenings ago, several does were out in the field behind Benny's and moved in single file on top of the berm in our back 40. In another month, the hunger days will come especially if we get heavy snow. In the lands of my ancestors during these times, tree bark especially from Scots Pine, was dried, ground and added to augment the supply of grain flour. This bark bread not only filled the belly but had a bonus of adding vitamin C to the diet.
Our planet still turns as the seasons follow one another. And for the time being, we're still here, feet hitting the floor each morning.
The critters are so reassuring.
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