No, not what you're thinking, although we do have a new layer of snow as of last night. This is actually about the lack of ice cubes in our house with which to grace the G & Ts of our latest friends to visit from SFo. The icemaker doesn't work, and we long ago lost the knack of filling ice trays, so dear Jason & Adra had to gently remind us that some people do put ice in their drinks (even Scotch!), and they graciously showed us how to place the ice tray in the freezer replete with water, which then turns to ice! So tonight their G & Ts will be the proper temperature. And maybe I should stop to buy a bag of ice on the way home from work.
I had to stop at the gas station this morning, in the snowfall, and fill up so the little light on the dash would go off. While standing there, a large snow-plow truck pulled up and emitted that oh-so-evocative scent of diesel in the cold & snow. Takes me back, back to winter in Leningrad when I was a slip of a girl. Amazing how powerful scent can be. And interestingly, this one is connected also with temperature. It has to be cold, preferably with snow, for the diesel aroma to work its magic on me.
So all is cozy and good here. Building memories in a new place with lots of help from dear friends from the old.
Muddling around in February. It's just that kind of month. Some birdies are beginning to make brief appearances. On Saturday at Abiquiu we stopped to photograph the icy river, and the stirring sight of a V of Canada geese flew right over our heads, honking and headed north. Lovely fat white bellies not so very far above our heads. And the air was mild, at least during the day and in the sunshine.
Tom and Ducky are healthier and happier now they've been out of the shelter for several months. And we've been ever so slowly introducing the dogs to them, gradually and more & more. Maybe next fall we can thoroughly integrate....
The farmers market(no apostrophe!) has dwindled to greenhouse tomatoes, breads, dried herbs, cheeses, beeswax and oils & vinegars. Also, baskets and yarns. We buy our cat food there (Local, humanely raised creatures with one bad day [which we all get to sooner or later]feels way better than dubious canned "goods".) The breakfast burritos there are fabulous. So if you are someone planning a trip here be sure to include a Saturday morning so we can take you to the farmers market. It's indoors in the winter, but you'll still have to bundle up.
Oh, bloggy-blog, how neglectful I've been. But just look at the justifiable distractions: prepping for a Big Meeting in Charleston, SC all January! and...well, prepping for a big meeting in Charleston in January.
We're back now, and it was so great being back in Charleston, this time on my business trip (anybody seen Romy & Michelle's High School Reunion? Remember how they were 'business women'?) with Marg as my sidekick instead of the other way round. She was an amazing amanuensis (more vocab from KW). So wonderful & supportive & fun. And she brought me my cell phone when I left it in the hotel room! I guess I set a good example all these years.
Probably the highlight of Charleston was our escape to our very special Folly Island (yes, namesake of our special bully dog), where we walked the beach, in rather windy cold weather, found shells (more on that presently), and Marg stripped to her bathing suit and braved the 50-degree Atlantic just for the crazy fun of it. Briefly. I was Support Staff holding the towel.
SHELL STORY: 2 astoundingly beautiful, large, unbroken, corrugated, multi-colored whelks (?) that we found just peeking out of the wet sand at low tide. They turned out to have creatures housed inside, rather thick, slug-like creatures, but living nonetheless. Moral & ethical debates ensued: beauty vs. life. (An aside attributed to Modigliani (paraphrased): in a fire, choose life (a cat) over beauty (a painting). We chose life, much as we admire & revere beauty: The whelks were tossed back into the sea, where they could at least escape the jaws of the seagulls lurking on the sands.
