Skip to main content

How to spend a snowy day~

Let it!
The weather outside was frightful, and the woodstove so delightful, and since there’s no place [I wanted] to go, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!

And it did.

My husband and I shoveled eighteen inches off the driveway and walks this morning, and then, having freed the cars for use, chose to stay home.

And I, who doesn’t much enjoy the daily grind of cooking--peel, chop, boil, broil, serve, clean up, repeat daily—spent the day cooking. I baked meat loaf and lasagne, and then tackled the carrots we had only recently pulled from the back yard garden. Root vegetables can stay in the ground until a freeze, so we left them until the weather said, “Pull now.”


Sleeping in the snow~

It seemed odd to peel and slice fresh garden produce while the snow swirled, and odder still to utterly enjoy it. Usually preparing veggies for canning or freezing is a late August chore. Standing over a pot of boiling beans, beets, tomatoes, or whatever in 90 degree weather isn’t all that much fun, just a necessary task.

But peeling, slicing, and preserving a taste of summer in the midst of a winter storm was pleasure. Shredding carrots for muffins that filled the house with cinnamon warmth was delightful. And of course eating a buttered muffin warm from the oven was worth staying home for.

Let it snow, again!

And yet, I was ever aware of those less fortunate, those on the streets, those whose stomachs grumble, roar even, with hunger, those with no shelter, cold and alone… The awareness tempers my pleasure, while making me ever more grateful for what I have.

The epitome of patience~
~~~~~
What does love look like? It has the hands to help others. It has the feet to hasten to the poor and needy. It has eyes to see misery and want. It has the ears to hear the sighs and sorrows of men. That is what love looks like. ~Saint Augustine

Comments

Ross Eldridge said…
Hallo there, Ruth & Family!

Lovely words and the photos are exquisite. Those chairs look really chilly!

And I could smell the carrots. I cannot grow carrots in my concrete courtyard, everything must be in plantpots, but along with broccoli, I eat a good deal of them. Conveniently, perhaps curiously, the minimart bunches carrots and broccoli together!

I've been buying fresh carrot & coriander soup ... It's the only vegetarian soup I make that Cailean likes (he completely ignores pumpkin or tomato).

It is the Winter Solstice and I wonder if there are any daft Druids running about Stonehenge in the snow and cold ... and dark. Not sure when the sun rises in the south of England on 21 December, but if it gets above our horizon, it won't be till after nine this morning. It will be dark again not long after two.

But more daylight is coming each day and week from today.

As they sing in the Rocky Horror Picture Show ... "There's a light in the darkness of everybody's life ..."

Sometimes one has to wait for it, and search the horizon, but creation is built on and of light.

Keep warm! Merry Berry! Holly Jolly!

And to all a Good Light!

Ross & Cailean
Ah, Ruth. We were doing the same thing. I was baking bread and homemade kumquat marmalade for presents.

Our weather is a bit blustery tonight, but certainly nothing like yours.

I LOVED your photos. I'm always looking for snowy landscapes for my screen saver and snatched one--hope you don't mind--for the Christmas season. The two chairs. How divine.

Enjoy your holidays. s
Michelle said…
Ohhh what fun! Would you mind sharing a bit of your snow? Out west we have snow but the rain has melted it away. Beautiful photo's!
Ruth L.~ said…
Help yourself, Sarah... Enjoy the photo with out the need to shovel.

Ross, I'm glad Cailean eats so well. I'm sure you're looking forward to the lengthening of the daylight hours again.

Rozel, be careful what you wish for.

Popular posts from this blog

For Alice~ She's home!!!!!!!

What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson Sometimes it's all about knowing that loved ones and friends stand behind you, knowing that support is there on the down days, the worry days, the days when you feel off-center, out of sync, bedraggled emotionally, and in pain, but knowing all the while that you're not alone. You're not alone... Alice is an online friend--she lives in Hawaii-- who belongs to the writer's workshop that I do. We've only "met" online, but those who have online friendships know that they can be just as strong as those in-person relationships. Alice was hit by a car while walking, and is in the rehab phase of things. She's working to regain mobility after a broken pelvis, a broken arm, and a broken nose. It's scary to realize how, in the blink of an eye, life can lurch and our plans for a time are displaced by survival and healing. We&#

This retirement thing~

This retirement thing . . . it seems like it should be so easy, so effortless, so thrilling, to stop the daily grind. It is thrilling; at least I think it will be come September when I'm not following the school buses to work. But it's not easy. I had a plan book on my desk for 35 years, one I filled in weekly, scheduling new lessons at 45-minute intervals, meetings, parent conferences, and field trips. I knew what needed to be done and when. I got up at the same time everyday (5:45 a.m.), ate lunch at the same time (12:06 p.m.) and watched the kids pack their bags for home everyday at 2:15 p.m. I'm not sorry to give up that regimentation. But three weeks into the summer, I find myself making lists of things I need to do, and there is so much to do that I can't imagine how I managed while I was working eight hours on top of it all. There are the household chores, gardening, exercise (aren't retirees supposed to get fitter?), freelance writing, book reviewing, readin

Lesson from a Weed~

If dandelions could talk, here’s what I think they might say:  " Bloom where you’re planted, sink your roots deep. Smile in the sun, soak up the rain, and let the wind take you to new places." Dandelions are an early spring food for bees. They are often the first flower a young child picks for his mother and they provide a sweet moment for a mother to teach her child to make a wish and blow away the seeds. They speckle landscapes with lemon-colored glory. Common, and often disliked by those in favor of perfect lawns, we trample over them with hardly a thought. All this crossed my mind as I stood in this field of dandelions, most having gone to seed. I had an hour to myself at a retreat at a beautiful family farm on this day of unexpected sunshine and warmth. I was looking for a moment of stillness.   I’d watched two swans,   visited the alpacas,   chatted with the chickens, tried to coax a kitty closer...