Tuesday, February 9, 2016


It was the time of year when men's thoughts turn to war...

Apparently, the end of winter is a great time to plan and organize a military campaign. In the last gray, weary days of winter - when it seems the cold and snow will never pass - it's nice to have something exciting to look forward to come spring, isn't it?! Or maybe, after being cooped up through the cold winter months, men just need to get out and kill one another for a little bit, you know, to let off some steam.

A friend commented Sunday that February is his least favorite month, because while the novelty of winter weather has worn off, spring still seems far away. My friend said perhaps that's why God made February the shortest month - God knew we couldn't hold out any longer!

I don't want to go to war. I'd rather start prepping the garden for spring planting or mulch my little trees.

Reuben cooked up a special Ghost Pepper sauce over Christmas break that we are going to try out this spring on the fruit trees. I figure one of two things will happen:  either the hot sauce will discourage the deer from gnawing the bark off the young trees - or - we will learn that deer actually like a little heat with their plum and cherry saplings.

Maybe we'll actually have some fruit to harvest this year. I just hope the plums and peaches and apples don't taste like hot peppers!

Today's snow caught me completely off guard. (Thankfully, Steve picked up milk and bread at the grocery store yesterday.) I woke up this morning with a list as long as my arm of errands to run in town. When the sun came up, those plans were clearly nixed. Nope, forget about driving to the post office, grocery store, etc. Helen and I are barricaded in the house today.

I was happy Saturday, when it was 60 degrees outside, to think that wintry weather was past. I am happy today that snow compels me to spend an entire day at home.

Helen is studying French vocabulary and working on memorizing the first movement of a 37-page sonata. (The girl's got mad piano skillz.)

I'm reading ahead in Helen's American Literature and geography, checking a few chores off my house-cleaning list, and working on a couple of writing assignments.

It was the time of year when...

...mom's thoughts turned to a blazing fire in the fireplace, a cup of hot tea, and a volume of Henry David Thoreau.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I don't think my groundhog was entirely honest. She didn't see her shadow. Native Americans did not have months but called the time of February the starving time.
Love you, Dad