This morning I wasn't surprised to see the ice pond full... and weird looking:
Muddy runoff, ice slabs and snow slush. Yummy. I don't fully appreciate how much detritus is continually falling from trees and bushes around here until we have snow. There's crap all over everything. And the ice pond just accentuates it by picking it up and swirling it around like a big pot of chilled gazpacho... [which is an odious concoction in my humble opinion. I apologize if you are fond of it.]
(That's chilled Ice Pond soup spiced with jackrabbit, to you Cupcake.)
WILL you let that GO?
(You know it's in there somewhere and you are going to have to deal with it eventually. It just sort of tickles me that I know that you know this and are worried about it.)
One of these days, (), one of these days....
Anyway, when I was out this morning dealing with chickens and photographs, I got to see THIS for a few moments.
I think we used to call it 'The Sun'.
Because I was spending way too much time worrying about it, while cultivating my rather lively case of cabin fever, [I haven't left the immediate neighborhood for 7 days as the lane is impassable for the Cube] I decided to take matters into my own hands and face my fear head on.
This is what was left of my wood by the back door since I haven't been able to get the cart down to the barn in days and days...
When the storm hit, I had filled that thing to just above the top of that piece of plywood.
The minus 2 degree weather sort of made a dent in it. Slightly.
I decided I couldn't take the anxiety any more and trudged down to the barn with a sled that Mr. P had in his possession.
That thing worked a treat, and I now have about three days worth of wood instead of two. In three days things should improve.
(That's what they said back in the '64 flood.)
Go to your room. I've had it with you.
(This IS my room.)
I think my cabin fever is about to turn into cabin rage. You don't want that to happen. It's cold outside, and I know for a fact that the hens would NOT let you into the coop. Your reputation precedes you.
You have anything to say now?
(Yep.)
What is it?
(I think you are almost out of milk.)
I'M TELLING!
YOU SAID A BAD WORD !!!
Muddy runoff, ice slabs and snow slush. Yummy. I don't fully appreciate how much detritus is continually falling from trees and bushes around here until we have snow. There's crap all over everything. And the ice pond just accentuates it by picking it up and swirling it around like a big pot of chilled gazpacho... [which is an odious concoction in my humble opinion. I apologize if you are fond of it.]
(That's chilled Ice Pond soup spiced with jackrabbit, to you Cupcake.)
WILL you let that GO?
(You know it's in there somewhere and you are going to have to deal with it eventually. It just sort of tickles me that I know that you know this and are worried about it.)
One of these days, (), one of these days....
Anyway, when I was out this morning dealing with chickens and photographs, I got to see THIS for a few moments.
I think we used to call it 'The Sun'.
Because I was spending way too much time worrying about it, while cultivating my rather lively case of cabin fever, [I haven't left the immediate neighborhood for 7 days as the lane is impassable for the Cube] I decided to take matters into my own hands and face my fear head on.
This is what was left of my wood by the back door since I haven't been able to get the cart down to the barn in days and days...
When the storm hit, I had filled that thing to just above the top of that piece of plywood.
The minus 2 degree weather sort of made a dent in it. Slightly.
I decided I couldn't take the anxiety any more and trudged down to the barn with a sled that Mr. P had in his possession.
That thing worked a treat, and I now have about three days worth of wood instead of two. In three days things should improve.
(That's what they said back in the '64 flood.)
Go to your room. I've had it with you.
(This IS my room.)
I think my cabin fever is about to turn into cabin rage. You don't want that to happen. It's cold outside, and I know for a fact that the hens would NOT let you into the coop. Your reputation precedes you.
You have anything to say now?
(Yep.)
What is it?
(I think you are almost out of milk.)
I'M TELLING!
YOU SAID A BAD WORD !!!