Back to School

It is snowing this morning. We have two or three inches of fresh powder. When I walked the dogs in the dark in my coat, boots, and bathrobe, there were coyote tracks down the center of the driveway leading to the barn. That rascal! However, the animals are safe behind the big doors. I could hear Ambrose trying out his reedy teenaged crow inside.

Vacation is over. I worked as hard as I could but only accomplished 20 of the 78 items on my list. Still, the storage unit is cleaned out, the lawn tractors, horse trailer, and sheep fences are all put away. The upstairs window screens have been taken down, dried of ice, and carried to the attic. Yesterday I worked for another few hours on the mudroom paneling (cutting boards on the porch in blowing snow at a windchill of 3°F was slow work). Last night by dinner time I had finished mucking deep bedding out of the main sheep stall.

Everything else will have to roll over to a new list. It’s time to turn my thoughts to the robber barons in 8th grade and Sir Walter Raleigh and John Smith in 7th.

In the meantime DH and I continue to enjoy our propane stove. He is currently reading the paper on his iPad in a rocking chair in front of the fire. I made many mistakes designing and purchasing for this house, but the stove is a solid success. After years of heating with wood, push-button flames and instant coziness seem a stunning luxury. DH has many little jokes. “We need some more kindling.” “I guess I’ll close the damper now.” “Do we have any matches?” “I suppose it’s time to bank the coals.” They all make me happy.

I’m sure someday the miracle will feel old, but not for a while.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s