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| A snug cabin in which to ride out the storm |
Storm Warning, December 21st
It’s nice to welcome winter in a place that has the quintessential look and feel of winter. Snow on the ground and dusting the evergreens, a nice contrast and keeping it from looking at all bleak as it might in some landscapes, the temperature in the low-20’s appropriately brisk, to say the least. Our wireless weather station has flashing snowflakes displayed for a “future forecast” (bit of an oxymoron, me thinks). The sky is clear and a light blue at the horizon, intensifying at the zenith. We’re hoping for several hours outside again this afternoon, knowing it might be the last comfortable outside time we get for several days.
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| Prepared |
There’s a winter storm watch on from this afternoon and through tonight, tomorrow, tomorrow night and into the following day. We could get nothing, or we could get the 2-5 inches they’re predicting, or we could get more. Most assuredly we’ll dip down into single digits (on either side of zero degrees), but our cabin is so snug (thank you builder Brian), and our wood supply is essentially endless. We’re provisioned well for a month (less well until the spring thaw). We have little to worry about with a storm, and that is more than offset by the excitement (weather junkies that we are). We have two big bookshelves filled with fiction, non-fiction, and reference books on nature and cooking, Kindles loaded up with reading material, an absolutely full iPod, NPR on the radio, one DVD to watch on the computer (Snowflower and the Secret Fan), jigsaw puzzles, games, two laptops, a sewing machine with projects galore, three different places to nap (the loft is the warmest), a phone to call family and friends, the chains on the SUV, a good dog, and binoculars near every window for bird watching. And, thank goodness, we truly enjoy our own and each other’s company.
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| Sharing the road for a bit |
After lunch the temperature climbed to near 40, so we put on a couple of layers plus our fleece vests and headed out for a pre-snowstorm walk. It had clouded up and was looking quite gray in the northwest, so we knew we wouldn’t be going far. We headed down the drive and up the main road in the opposite direction to Tuesday’s walk with our happy dog trotting out ahead. We rounded a corner and found a neighbor’s dog lying in the road, keeping an eye on things. He joined our dog for half a mile or so and then scenting with his nose deep in some tracks in the snow, headed off into the forest. Bump took a few tentative steps to follow him, ended up in chest deep snow, and thought better of it, rejoining us on the road. About a mile along we turned back into an freshening breeze and a darkening sky, and retraced our steps. The snow scrunched underfoot, and with the increasing chill we were glad to get back to the warm cabin.
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| This way home...or maybe we'll walk the driveway |
It started snowing around 4 PM, and half an hour later we had an inch on the deck and were losing sight of the features across the valley. We know that landscape so well that as it disappeared from view we still thought we could see the ghost of the mountain forming our horizon, but it was gone. I took extra pleasure in making us a hot dinner -- oven roasted potatoes and a Greek veggie-tofu scramble -- which we devoured with a glass of Malbec. The evening was spent with the porch lights on, watching the snow thicken and the depth increase. We went to sleep snug under the quilt, unable to shake the vision of swirling wind-driven snow, wondering what we’d see when we looked outside in the morning.
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