Sunday...

I love Sunday's. We have a bit of a ritual. I am always up early because the dogs wish to go outside. Once up I take care of the animals, make a cup of herbal tea, then snuggle up on the sofa with the dogs and write for an hour. The house is silent except for snoring pugs, and I am cozy and warm and happy. Around 7 AM I call my sister Donna and we catch up on the news of the week.

Next, Chris wakes up and we have a nice breakfast. Then we watch our favorite TV show, Sunday Morning.

When that is over it is time to shower and dress and gather up refuse for the dump. We load the truck up and go to the transfer station. The "dump guy" gives any dogs I have with me a cookie.
After that we do something FUN. Sunday is our day of rest.

Today we "rested" a LOT. We drove to Belfast and went to a book store, a few other stores, and the Co-op (where we bought dried garbanzo beans.) We went to the harbor and took photos of the winter harbor in the snow. Then we went to Lincolnville beach and fed the gulls bread. I took photos of snow covered kelp and shells and birds and icy rocks. My fingers and ears were freezing... the mercury in the thermometer danced in the low 20's. From there we went to Camden harbor (with bread) and I took a lot of duck pictures. The ducks stood so close to me that they put their orange, webbed feet on my boots. They ate bread from my hands and bit my fingers with their flat beaks. I giggled like a kid.

After all THAT we went to see True Grit. I have not seen a movie in a theatre for many years. Chris put his arm around me and held my hand, too. It was all very sweet and cozy and romantic.

Then home and a supper of slow simmered vegetarian chili. As I sit on the leather sofa covered in a warm blanket and a lot of dogs, I feel myself relax into a state of utter contentment. Life? It's good. Did I mention that I love Sunday's?

What I recieved for my first married Christmas...

At heart I am a simple woman. Here is proof. On our first married Christmas in 1984 my sweet husband asked me what I might like to receive as a gift. I gave the matter a lot of thought. Our budget was minuscule, so diamonds and fast cars were not an option. I wanted something meaningful. Something ROMANTIC.

So I did the only thing I could. I asked for a cast iron frying pan.

My husband, who was used to me being a confusing little minx, cocked his head like a puppy and asked, "A what?"

"I want a cast iron frying pan." He, (understandably) questioned my request. (I think he was envisioning a cartoon bubble that included me bashing his head with said pan.)

I continued, "I want to have a nice pan to cook you breakfast in for the next 50 years." He made the "aw" noise and I got my skillet.

The skillet above is actually a replacement of the first one. The original skillet was BROKEN, (yes, I said it, broken) by Tiger Lilly, or bad, bad boxer. This one is broken, too. Note the uneven metal on the left, that used to be a little handle thing till, (you guessed it) Lilly broke it.

The thing about cast iron is it gets better the more you cook with it. It becomes "seasoned." A seasoned pan makes things cook well, bringing out the optimal flavor and prevents sticking. Kind of like a long term marriage, now that I think about it. Lots of flavor, not many sticking points.

See, my gift WAS romantic!

Life and death in the snow...

I just happened to see a breathtaking life and death struggle when I looked out my window today around noon. I saw something large in the snow where nothing had been before. I froze and stared, trying to make sense of the scene playing out before my eyes. There was a very large bird there in the snow, wings outstretched. Then in a blink it flapped and lifted, a small

dark rodent suspended from its beak. It flew across the field to the woods in slow motion, and took my breath with it.

Of course I had to go and read the story written in the snow. I could see a small tunnel coming up out of a drift. Some hapless vole had been exploring. The little marks you see coming up from the center of the photo are the prints the little animals body made as it hopped across the snow. The depression at the top of the photo was caused by the body of a large red tailed hawk as it landed. And the lines that look as if someone dragged their fingers in the snow (1, 4, 5 and 6 o'clock) were caused by the outstretched wings. As I looked around the meadow I saw two other places where a vole had burrowed up, up to the bright sun. And I could see where a bird, very probably that same hawk, had landed and brushed its bright feathers into the powder. I don't know who won those other battles there, but I did see the outcome from the struggle pictured above.

I don't know what that little vole was looking for as it dashed across the canvas of white, but I do know that a hawk found what he sought.

Storm shades...

Those who know me know that I am fond of decorating with lots of white paint, broken up with splashes of color. Thus a good storm adds to my preferred dwelling design! (Note, the banks at the end of the driveway are around 5 feet tall.)
Here is what my road looked like when I drove home. Un-plowed, the snow at this point was 6 or more inches of slickness. I drove very, very slowly (in what my daughter calls "Mom's Best Old Lady Driving.") Back to that preference for white? I was white knuckled as I made my way.

Once settled safely in our house I was able to enjoy some other shades... like the ember-red of this Cardinal feasting on black oil sunflower seeds. I went out several times to refill the feeders. The birds came in mobs to fill up on seeds, nuts, dried fruit and suet. In moments I was dusted in snow, with icy fingers and skin tingling from the cold. I couldn't resist sticking my tongue out to taste a few perfect flakes as they fell.

As the day closed and the storm wound down, I was treated to the sight of a sky awash in color from my icicle fringed porch. There is a certain sort of hush to a world covered in fresh snow, more pronounced as the day ends and the light drains slow as honey from the sky.

The shades of the storm wrapped up all my senses.

Frosting on the hoof...

When I went to work this morning the cows were snow dusted. And on the way home, more snow. As I slid and skidded past them I envied their 4 hoof drive.

Time is on my side...

I admit it... I struggle with my grasp of time.



A lesson I have to learn and relearn is this; I can accomplish quite a lot in a very small amount of time if I just try. I tend to think that certain tasks will take much, MUCH more time than I have to give. Here is an example; I have a drawer in my kitchen that is euphamistically called "the junk drawer." Any small household item without a home finds it way there. At any given moment you can find a hammer, nails, tacks, tape, a tape measure, a pack of gum, several pens, some paper clips, a note pad, matches, deposit slips, pocket change, a comb for the dog, some random keys, razor blades, sticky tack, postage stamps and a half dozen screw drivers crammed in that small space. It vexes me that this drawer is frequently messy and disorganized. But I put off cleaning it out because it seems like such a huge project. In truth, I can tidy that sucker up in less than 15 minutes if I set my mind to it. I know I can, because I have done it. (This lesson is nurtured by the site www.flylady.net.)



And don't get me started on writing. I tend to put off writing ideas because writing will take SO much TIME. In December I posted about the site http://www.750words.com/ Because of this site I have written every day for 30+ days, and in that time I have compiled over 25,000 words. That is a short novel! And it was effortless and fun. I am amazed that I could write so much in such a short span.



Like the old Rolling Stones song says, time is on my side. It is a lesson I have to learn time after time.

Foodie....

Chanel is a foodie. Some creatures eat to live, others live to eat. Chanel is of the latter persuasion. Me too. She has a real fondness for Ginger Snap cookies. And Fig Newtons and peppermints, thankyouverymuch.

This excellent photo was taken by friend Marion. Chanel does not seem to mind being knee deep in fresh snow while she noshes on some good hay. One of the things I admire about Chanel is that she is enthusiastic about each meal, each new thing she experiences. That and she looks darn good in a heavy winter coat.