BroadBean of Sleet in retrospect

I notice myself recapitulating my father in various little ways. As evening fell, he'd always draw the curtains in the living room. It was a cozy moment, turning away from the darkening world to his own fireside. And the first thing he'd do when he came down in the morning was to pull the curtains back and let the morning in. We don't have curtains. We have those fancy window shades that can be pulled up or down with a cord (installed by the previous occupants). But I do the same thing. As it gets dark, I close the shades, and every morning when I come downstairs, I open them up to see how the morning is going. Lately, they always open on the same scene of icy gloom.

We didn't get as much precipitation as expected on Saturday night, so the ice was cleared off the roads pretty fast. I helped Tron and the Lumberjack scrape off their car, and then they ate breakfast and packed everything away, and took off. They texted from the road to say that everything was clear, and about 9:30 they let us know they were home. I had all kinds of plans for doing stuff yesterday, but I didn't do any of it. The house was too silent. I kept walking from one room to another, but there was never anybody there! I was doing all right until I went out in the kitchen and saw their tray with the napkin folded, and their oatmeal bowls waiting to be washed--a big one for the Lumberjack and a little one for Tron. Then I was sad. She'd made the bed nicely and spread the quilt over it. All the little traces of their presence seemed to be offering the hope that they might come back any minute, and I didn't have the heart to wipe them out by stripping the beds and doing the dishes. I also had plans to cheer myself up by doing various things, but they all involved driving somewhere, which I was not inclined to do given that my car was still encased in ice. I'd helped to chip Tron's car loose, but I just didn't feel like doing it again. However, by nightfall I was in a better state of mind. Today I'll go to the store and do the laundry, and all will be as it was. How lucky I was to have them for so long!

SugarMaple of Sleet

In between texting with the Sparrowhawk at intervals, I started doing the laundry today, and cleaned up the leftover dishes in the kitchen. I de-iced the car and took myself out to the grocery store to buy more soap for the dishwasher and the washing machine, kleenex, and milk. I needed more laundry soap because I've done three loads of sheets already, and I still have to do another set plus towels, not to mention my own laundry. I also bought what I like to call remaindered meat, because when it gets toward the end of its sell-by date, it becomes half price. I put it in the freezer for later, because I'm still working on the leftovers. I've had some interesting combinations. Last night, cabbage roll plus leftover noodles mingled with a little leftover chicken and some miso broth. Today's lunch: cheesy broccoli (which may have been just a tiny bit over the edge) and ham bits. Dinner, the last slice of pizza plus green beans with almonds, and a dab of something I thought was salad, but which turned out to have a piece of vegetarian sushi embedded in it. The weather is dark and damp, but not as bitterly chill as before, so I went out for a walk just before dark. I had a nice cup of tea while listening to Christmas music. It turns out that the old school Christmas season officially lasted until Candlemas on Feb. 2. So I'm liturgically impeccable in continuing to enjoy my music. Not that I actually care. Tron kindly texted to let us know that she got through her first day of exams with her colors still flying, and the Lumberjack saw a better doctor, who diagnosed a secondary infection and has started him on antibiotics. I hope this will result in a permanent turn for the better. I impulsively and somewhat recklessly spent some money and ordered six more hellebore plants to be delivered in the spring. It's an act of faith that it won't be winter always . . . .