September 8, 2009

Written September 8, 2009 - Forgive the spelling and other errors..no time.

It happened. We woke up and it was Spring...if only for the day. I flung open the front door to let out the cat and for the first time in months vapor crystals did not freeze in my lungs. The kind of day in town that people find themselves digging under mounds of long underwear and wool sweatersin their dresser drawers for a t-shirt, which they will wear, walking down the spiffy, rose-bursting streets of Futa, unable to bear another day in a winter coat. I will have to dig in cardboard boxes, but it's the kind of day that having no dressers or closets cannot dampen my spirits. Nor can the fact that the waterline to the house is clogged and the hydro not at full power crush my Spring Fever emotional upswing.

Foot-in-cast aside, it's been a beautiful couple of weeks. Rains stopped, stars came out at night, and one evening the moon was so full and bright as it crested over the ridge behind the house, the opposing mountain range lit up, covered with glowing snow. We turned around in the bed so we could lay staring out the window until we feel asleep. Beds are the same one way, as they are the other, so I wonder why it feels so odd to sleep opposite? I woke up that morning at 5:30 a.m. feeling like I'd been camping out, and hobbled down to stoke the morning fire and make coffee. The cat was happy for the company, and wildly enjoys the toys I made for her from sticks, goose feathers and masking tape last week (I was bored out of my mind). I've also been carving pumice stones I collected on Santa Barbara beach in June when we were stuck in Chaiten for a day and a half (the volcano rumbling just 8 kilometers away).

Greg has finished chainsawing, splitting and stacking all but one of the fallen trees Ismael hauled to the woodlot with his amazing oxen. I always wonder when I see him working them how the term "clumsy as an ox" came about because them seem incredibly graceful, though huge and a bit scary to me.

Nono sent down five new pairs of her signature wool socks. I was a little dismayed to realize it would be stupid to wear just one new sock (I love a new pair of socks), and that got me to thinking about how when you wear socks, after a while it always seems that ONE will get a hole in it, but never both. I spent an afternoon sewing up holes and managed to salvage a few old pairs, but the happy spot in the afternoon was realizing that I could still utilize the orphan socks left over from unpatchable, unrepairable pairs. As my Grandmother always said, "Always a reason for everything...we just don't always know at the time why". She was a wise woman who also often lamented while shaking her head, "Vicki Jo...What WILL become of you?" She was right again on that point. No one knows.

I'm trading my refridgerator for having my floors finished and sealed. It's an energy hog (both the fridge and the floor). I'll look for a smaller, more efficient one. Greg traded a used alternator for Ismael's oxen work. Ismael and Nono brought back 70+ pounds of flour and several gallons of cooking oil I ordered from Argentina where it is half the cost of buying it in Futa. I'm back making bread and pizza dough again. Greg is happy.

We get enough power to listen to audio books each evening, and to turn on the bathroom light in the middle of the night and not trip over the mounds of laundry that are impatiently waiting to be washed. When not listening to bedtime stories podcasts, we read by candlight and Greg pretends to go downstairs to put a log on the fire but I know he's sneaking a piece of bread with peach jam. We are done dog-sitting, and will miss Chon, the big sheepdog. Inexplicably, the yellow Collie disappeared the day Greg brought home 25-pounds of dogfood. Minky is queen of her castle again.

Tomorrow it might rain, and the temperature drop to a two-pair of socks, fleece jacket day. But for today, it's Spring, and lovely.

[Other ways I spend my time: Majong Titan. Statistics: Games played: 445. Games honestly won: 86]