The Good Sunday

Snow Shapes

Last night we learned how to put a new wick in an old kerosene heater. We were out on the porch as the snow fell, before the light was gone, reading instructions from the manual and trying not to get our hands too kerosene-y. Max's parents loaned it to us in case our power went out again, and we were trying to get a jump on things by actually learning to use it before the power went out. Thankfully the power is still on.

It's pretty amazing Max's parents still had the instruction manual to the heater. I don't know when they bought it or how often they used it, but it is characteristic of them to do something like keep the manual. They take good care of things.

The snow plow went by and we cheered for it. When it traveled back up the road 20 minutes later we were still out there, and we cheered it again. Darkness came, sandwiched between the white hills and the white sky, clouds reflecting ambient light back to the ground.

Snow changes the landscape in such lovely ways. The pine hedge behind our house looked like a graceful monster. Today we saw the neighbors walking their dainty dogs, the dogs wearing little jackets against the snow. I like the way snow masks the shape of what is there, or creates shape in places where there was none before.

Lists

What you are seeing

Tracks

"Ever notice how small critters make their surroundings seem more interesting just by being there with their tiny alertness?"

Under the overpass the sand is still left from the flood a few years ago. We walk carefully. It sticks to your sneakers like walking through paint. If we had the right little feet it might not stick so much.

Compost

Reading through my journals from 2009, and trying to finish the task of cataloging what is there, has taken up some time lately.

I love the feeling of reading back through a year's worth of processing and seeing how it has compressed and become richer during the resting stage. In the cataloging task I hope to find what is worth bringing out. Some things will need more attention, while others will need to stay in longer like egg shells that never fully decompose.

It's evening on a Monday of a three-day weekend and I am feeling the day slipping through my hands. There was a lot I wanted to get done today but I let it get away from me. The work-week looms. I wish I had a whole month off to finish some things.

Cups

They reflect the light, rounded bottoms up, mouths nuzzled into the towel. People standing in line to order press their backs against the door’s winter entrance. The cups shine, promising fullness ahead.