Monday, February 23, 2015
The ice pellets came in the dark of the night, tiny ping pong balls hitting the metal roof of the porch, and covering the ground in white, like snow, but just ice. The morning arrived with frigid temperatures and the sound of car wheels spinning out at the corner of our road. How thankful I am that we had no place we had to go. Chores done with care and loads of wood hauled into the house, that would provide us with cozy warmth for the day. The bird feeders have been a hub of activity. Hungry birds needing food to keep warm. Many of them arriving with ice on their tails. The garden covered with a white blanket, "poor mans fertilizer" as it is often said of these late winter storms. Lets hope it is. Warm winter tights, flannel skirt, wool knee socks and my new barn bonnet kept me warm while outside doing chores, my long wool shawl wrapped around my shoulders keeping me wrapped in comfort. I looked like someone from a century ago. Perhaps that's where my thoughts keep me. A century behind the present times. Embracing the simplicity of those days, yet, embracing the good things from this age. Each step I took, my eyes viewed another scene that looked like a painting to me, beauty in the way the ice clung to a branch or hung like a crystal off a baby leaf. Coming back into the house, the sound of the tea kettle, spitting and singing of greeted me, ready to be turned into a hot cup of tea. Hat, gloves and winter shawl, tossed on the kitchen chair, boots by the stove. Time to relax and enjoy the beauty of the day.
It is a silent sort of morning, sitting next to the wood stove in my rocker, watching the birds outside my windo...