Twenty-two on the deck this morning. I ventured out just after sunrise yesterday to crunch around wearing slippers and a robe to take photos of the frost-covered landscape. Pearl questioned my intentions (and my sanity), but joined me in the cold. Bessie Anne and Frank opted for their warm spots in front of the stove.
I had a great conversation in the afternoon with Tinka, my friend over the hill in Fiddletown. We live in parallel universes, sharing experiences with wet firewood, stray animals on the property, septic tanks situations, etc. We live a lifestyle that presents its own set of problems (and joys) and it is nice to compare notes with someone who truly understands.
I also had an opportunity to talk with my SoCal son Pete. He reads this journal and it's fun to know that he (a city boy if ever there was) gets a kick out of the mice, deer, birds, goats, and the life his mother leads. There are times I'm sure that he (like Pearl) wonders whether I've gone bonkers, but we agree that there are undeniably breathtaking moments here.
Were I to go out again this morning, it would be a rerun of yesterday. Frost so thick it looks like snow. Cold enough to hurt when I take a deep breath. Two inches of ice in the water troughs. It's a white world out there. It is beautiful.